Viscountess Amell: Blood and Power
by dominicgrim
Summary: Blood binds, power corrupts, Viscountess Amell and her family face a world on the verge of falling to pieces. The line between friend and enemy blurs, and nothing will be the same again. I do not own dragon age, I just play here.
1. No Rest

**Viscountess Amell: Blood and Power**

**Chapter 1: No Rest**

_I killed the stupid old fool! I killed the stupid old fool!_

Solona Amell, the Viscountess of Kirkwall shook her head. The childish taunt rang in her ears, and haunted her rest. She tried to summon more light to push back the shadows, but all that did was make things appear even darker, more foreboding.

She was a willowy young woman, slender and strong. Her blond hair had gone true white long ago, the result of the stress of ruling her city, and perhaps the magic that burned so brightly inside her. Her large blue eyes were narrowed with concentration as she scanned the hallway, searching always searching.

This is not right, a tiny voice in the back of her head murmured, you have already faced this challenge and won, why do you…?

_I __**killed**__ the stupid old fool! I __**killed **__the stupid old fool!_

She winced painfully, her hand going to several long scars gracing her shoulder. Scars that she had received the last time she had heard the words that now echoed like a chant through her mind.

_They were the words of a tyrant. They were the words of a madman!_

She whimpered softly.

_They were…the words of her brother, her own little brother._

He had said them to her as he ran away, just after he had murdered her master, a man who had been like a father to her.

He murdered him, murdered him, and then…

He had laughed.

Laughed.

_He betrayed me, she thought._

_He had always betrayed me._

Daylen Amell's face dance before her mind, she saw him as the scared little boy that had welcomed her to the keep almost ten years ago, and then saw him as the man who had taunted her with those cruel words on that horrible dark night.

Daylen, also known as Lord Death's Hand, Death's Hand the Deranged to several clever storytellers.

She might have tried to dispute it if she had not believed it.

Now, he was here, she realized, somewhere in this very keep.

_She needed to stop him._

_She __**would**__ stop him!_

She made her way down the darkened hallway; the air in the Viscount's keep seemed heavy, like the humid air before some great storm. Thunder rumbling in the distance, whether it was from a natural storm, or produced by magic she could not say, or perhaps it was the fire of a Qunari dreadnaught, she had heard those powerful canons once, the shots they had fired causing explosions deep into her city, fire that had even spread to the Viscount's Keep in faraway Hightown.

She gripped her fingers tightly around her staff. Thunder did not matter now, now she had another purpose, another goal. She needed to save her city….

Even though she feared that it might already be lost.

Her eyes went up to the portraits on the wall, the faces of past Viscounts and Viscountess, all of them had been profaned, five long slashes ripped across them all. It might have been a trick of the light but she thought those long dead faces were watching her, whispering in the darkness, pronouncing her a failure.

She had let this happen. Daylen had risen to power and she had helped him, let him take more and more power for himself, even as he plotted against her, and hurt their family.

She had let this happen.

It was all her fault.

Now… she needed to fix it.

_I __**killed**__ the stupid old fool! I __**killed **__the stupid old fool!_

She growled in frustration.

"Enough of these games, Brother!" she shouted, "Are you scared of me, Daylen?! Are you afraid of a little girl?!"

Thunder boomed outside the keep.

She glanced out the window, her eyes drawn by the light.

What she saw there, made her gasp in horror.

Kirkwall, the City of Chains, her city, was gone!

Flaming rubble was all that remained of mighty Hightown, even from here she could that the streets were littered with corpses, blood ran through the gutters like rivers. The distant docks and Lowtown had also vanished, swept away and flooded, they had vanished beneath the waters of Kirkwall harbor, and in the distance even from here, she could see the Gallows, or at least she should have been able to see it.

The Gallows, the prison of old, the Circle of Magi here in Kirkwall was gone; all that remained was shadow, a crater gaping wide. The yellow green light of the sky above illuminated the destruction, even as the black city drifted serenely by in the distance.

Solona blinked.

If…if she could see the Black City? If it was here then…?

The sound of rushing boot steps caused her to spin around!

Death's Hand was there, he was laughing madly, cackling like some abomination from the blackest pit!

He threw down his sword and rushed her, laughing and snarling at the same time.

She brought up her staff to defend herself.

She did not make it.

Death's Hand was not the little boy who had greeted her all those years ago; he had grown into a strong young man, the kind of man her mother would have been pleased to see. His mind however was another matter; it had been twisted by ambition and hatred for those that had loved him. The demonic claw that had replaced his right hand had only been a symbol of what he had become.

Daylen Amell had stopped being a person long ago.

What faced her now was a monster.

He slammed into her, hard. The two of them crashed through a window, just as they had done that day long ago, the day she had won back her throne from him, the two of them rolled out the window, they tumbled down the side of the keep, only one of the many bronze statues there halted their fall, halted their trip into death.

The statue gave way beneath them, Solona shrieked as she reached out for a ledge, groping and clawing for anything…

…Anything to save her from the long fall below.

Daylen was next to her, barely hanging on himself, just as he had been on the day that it had happened. He giggled as his claws ripped away at the stone supporting them, the masonry cracking each time he dug his fingers against it.

"**Stop it!"** she gasped, **"You will kill us both!"**

He did not reply, not with words anyway.

He slashed viciously at her hands, his claws cutting away her flesh.

Solona Amell, the Viscountess of Kirkwall fell into the ruined darkness.

She shrieked as she fell, spinning into the void, and still Daylen's taunted words haunted her.

_I __**killed**__ the stupid old fool! I __**killed **__the stupid old fool!_

The world spun away.

He was still laughing at her.

_I __**killed**__ the stupid old fool! I __**killed **__the stupid old fool!_

"NOOOOOOO!"

IOI

"_No!"_

Solona gasped as she bolted upright in bed, her head still spun with vertigo from the fall, dizziness swept through her.

The small hearth of her bedroom blazed brighter, the magic in her blood responding to her panic, likely every candle, torch and lamp in the Keep did the same. The flames responded to her magic, such was the height of her fear.

"Lona?"

She felt strong hands on her shoulders, strong and firm, for a moment she feared that Death's Hand was here, that he had followed her out of the fade, to finish what he had started.

"Lona, it is okay!" the voice said in a familiar Starkhaven brogue, "You were dreaming, love, you were dreaming."

The words gave her pause.

Dreaming, the Black City in the distance, the green-yellow light of the fade, yes.

She swallowed hard, willing her heart to slow her mind to focus.

She took a deep breath.

It had been a dream…

…just…a dream.

She felt strong arms wrap around her, pulling her close to his bare chest, slowly, the shivers stopped, the beating of his heart soothed her troubled mind, reminded her where she was.

She sighed heavily, taking comfort from the feel of those arms, the scent of clean male skin, and the gentle tickle of chest hair upon her face.

He ran his fingers down her back, the gentle caress sending ripples of pleasure through her body, calming her mind.

"Sebastian," she murmured warmly.

She felt his lips upon her forehead.

"I'm here love," her lord husband cooed softly.

I'm here.

IOI

Slowly and gently, Sebastian lowered her back into their bed, letting her head rest fully on his chest. He continued to sooth her, one arm around her shoulder, his hand going down gently stroking her back, with the other her stroked her ear, simple caresses that made all the difference it seemed, causing her to melt, causing her to drift back into a more relaxed state.

Solona sighed contently, it was a sound that Sebastian Vale had come to welcome, his wife had been so troubled these last few weeks.

His eyes drifted over her body, the sight still awoke feelings of lust within him. His beautiful wife, the mother of his two children still held great power over him, power that had nothing to do with her magic. They had been married almost three years now, and yet he still had times where he expected to wake up and find it all a dream. As the third son of the Prince of Starkhaven, he had never expected to wear any crown himself, which was likely a good thing because he had certainly not been worthy of one. He had come to Kirkwall a disgrace to his family, a troubled spoiled boy who brought nothing but trouble in his wake. His family had expected him to join the chantry, but his attraction to Lona and the death of his parents and brothers had changed all that.

He wondered what his parents would have said had they lived. Would they have been proud of him? Would they have embraced their two grandchildren with love and open arms?

It was sad, but it was clear that he would never know.

He had hoped that married life would give them stability, something both they, and the city she ruled, deserved, that had not happened.

Thanks to her enemies, all they had found was war, and death.

He frowned.

"The same dream," he inquired.

She nodded.

He felt a brief flash of anger.

It had been the same dream since Solona had returned from the peace conference in Tantervale. Her brother's surrender should have brought peace. He was currently locked in the tower under heavy guard. He had promised to aid them in stopping his former allies, he had offered them a chance for Kirkwall to heal, but instead his wife found herself a victim of new attacks, not all of them physical.

Sebastian shook his head.

He could not help but wonder just how much her little brother knew about what was going on? He had played the innocent before, and it had nearly resulted not only in his own death, but the death of his wife as well.

Was Daylen behind what was happening, it did not seem so, but looks could be deceiving, and even if he wasn't House Amell had no shortage of enemies.

He sighed heavily.

So much for them trying to bring about a new age of peace, chaos still reigned, even though the armies had stopped clashing. The war was over, but chaos continued to reign.

Solona's life, their lives had been in chaos for so long, first the rebellion of Solona's brother, then the Qunari, and finally the possibility of the chantry challenging her right to rule. Sebastian knew chantry law as well as anyone. Magic was to serve man and not rule over him. Technically, Solona's rule was against that commandment, yet she had done everything to show the chantry that she was not a threat. That they had nothing to fear of her rule, Justinia V the new Divine in Val Royeaux seemed to be on the verge of accepting that.

Others were not so accepting; they continued to challenge his wife, denying her peace, and the rest she deserved.

He gently kissed her forehead, making her sigh happily.

The simple act brought a smile to his face.

She deserved a moment's peace, and if he could provide it for her, he was more than willing to do so.

It was a small victory, bringing his wife from the darkness of her dreams, but it was only a victory in a single battle.

The Lord Consort sighed.

The war was still going on.

It had been several weeks since Solona had taken the Harrowing, several weeks since the focus hidden in her training room had almost brought a pride demon into the keep. Solona had her guard investigating who might have smuggled such an object into the keep in the first place, but so far, nothing had come of the investigation.

Few people had access to that room, a few family members, and the Templars of course trusted to watch over the Viscountess. Solona trusted her family; she did not think any of them could have been responsible, which left only one possible culprit, even though Sebastian prayed that the she was wrong.

The focus was an amulet from the Circle of Magi, used by spirit mediums to conjure up spirits; such items were strictly regulated by the chantry, so it was unlikely that an outsider could have gained position of one. Not impossible mind you, just difficult.

Solona had not said the name of the culprits, even though he saw the answer on her face as clear as day.

He did not want to believe it; the Templar Order had defended Thedas against the dangers of magic for ages now.

He could not believe that Knight-Commander Meredith would risk the Templar order just to settle a feud with his wife. Such and act would certainly mean the woman's dismissal, at the very least it meant that she would have to defend herself before the Seekers of Truth.

He had not met single Templar that wished that, the seekers would get to the bottom of this, if that is what it came to.

AT least he hoped they would.

"Sebastian," he heard her murmur.

He raised her head gently by the chin.

"Yes, Love?"

"Try not to be angry," she advised, "We have a big day tomorrow, not just the meeting with the nobles but the last of the wedding plans."

She smiled slightly.

"We should at least try not to disappoint Garrett and Aveline."

Sebastian sighed.

"The wedding between Garrett Hawke and Aveline Vallen had grown into something of a social event. It was to take place a week from tomorrow, but already dignitaries were arriving. All seemed eager to wish the Champion of Kirkwall well in his impending nuptials.

Hopefully, everything would go smoothly until then.

He sighed heavily.

"I will try love," he said, "In the meantime; you should try to get some rest as well."

He smiled fondly at her.

"It would not do for the Viscountess of Kirkwall to fall asleep in the middle of greeting so many important nobles."

His wife chuckled.

"I doubt anyone would really notice, an even if they did, they would likely just sidle up next to me, propping me up just so, so that their fellows could see they had the favor of the Viscountess, awake or not."

"Possibly," he said with an amused smile, "Still you should try to get a bit more sleep, for yourself if no one else.

"I can't sleep," she said softly.

"Then maybe I can be of assistance," he offered, a hint of a sly smile playing across his lips.

His wife sighed.

"I would do anything at this point," she said, "Anything to…to…Sebastian…what…what are you…you…ooh!"

Her husband gave her a wicked smile; it was not often that he let out the rogue he had once been, that he use the skills he had learned during his misspent youth.

Her with Lona, here in their bedroom, it was acceptable…even enjoyable.

He could feel her moving against him, responding to his hands firm but guiding touch.

"Husband," she growled in a husky voice, her blue eyes darkening with desire.

"Ohhh, husband!"

He kissed her deeply; she began to submit, letting him turn her, allowing him to guide her onto her back.

He rose from their bed, slowly moving on top of her.

Lona groaned in sweet anticipation.

Sebastian Vale smiled.

They were still surrounded by enemies, but at least now, at this moment.

He would be able to give her pleasure, and through pleasure, a moments peace.

IOI

As the thirty fifth year of the dragon age continued, this moment would be one of the last moments of peace that the Viscountess and her husband enjoyed. Already the storm clouds were beginning to gather. Evil was stirring outside of Kirkwall, and from within.

Something was coming, Solona Amell no doubt knew that, but she was powerless to stop him.

History was coming for the city of chains, and none would escape its path.

The storm was coming, and everyone would soon be swept up in its wake.

Every one.

**A/N: Well, here is the first chapter of my next Viscountess story, hope you all like it. Lot of things coming very soon and not everyone is going to survive, until next time good readers.**

**DG**


	2. The Handmaiden

**Chapter 2: The Handmaiden**

"We have a busy day ahead of Esmeralda, do try to keep up."

Izzy rushed after Leandra Hawke, when the Viscountess had asked her to look after her cousin yesterday, she had not expected the task to be so…so…

…Hectic.

"Yes, Lady Hawke," she puffed from behind, "Yes."

The halls of the keep were buzzing with activity. Guests were arriving for the wedding while servants tended to the duties necessary to make the grand event all go smoothly. Lady Leandra had chosen to handle much the planning of the event herself, Izzy was surprised that the bride and groom did not seem to mind.

She smiled slightly to herself.

Had the bride and groom been anyone but Captain Aveline Vallen and Garrett Hawke, it might have been impossible.

Izzy was trying not to gawk like a common bumpkin. The keep was being transformed, this was not going to be any mere wedding.

It was going to be…a spectacle!

The Champion was not a man for large spectacle; she had gotten that from the conversations that the Viscountess had with the man. Guard Captain Vallen was an extremely practical woman; she likely would have been content being married in private ceremony with just family and a priest present.

No, this event was for Lady Hawke, it was clear that Lady Leandra loved her eldest son and his fiancé, but at the same time, she wished to show the world the strength of House Amell, a house, which, until recently, had been ripped apart by conflict and strife.

Esmeralda Poole was no fool. She understood the value of symbols. Lady Hawke no doubt wanted an event to honor her son, but she also wanted the world to see the strength of their family.

House Amell needed to be seen as an institution, a family like iron, unchallenged and unbreakable.

It was the best way to ensure peace.

The Lady was a woman possessed, she stopped every few feet to speak with this servant or that, to receive an update from a cook or a footman, and then she was off again striding purposely down the corridor, barely slowing to catch her breath, and often leaving her younger charge in the dust.

Izzy smiled slightly.

She found herself hoping that she would have as much energy as Leandra Hawke when she reached her age. The woman's strength seemed boundless, and she was so quick, even in noble garments.

Izzy was just grateful she had decided to wear flat sensible shoes today.

The pad she carried in her left arm jiggled slightly as she moved, the ink well attached to it was curved just so that it wouldn't spill, occasionally Leandra would stop and ask her to make note of this or that, when she did, Izzy would need to pause to make sure the ink did not run, or get on her pale blue gown. They passed by several noble daughters of Kirkwall, more than few sneered at the young girl. The Pooles were technically nobility, but many here still looked down their noses at what they considered an upstart and renegade House.

Either that, Izzy thought glumly, or her clothes showed a lack of fashion sense, both could be a possibility.

She had not been born to wealth and privilege; her father had been a soldier, Ser Henri Poole, a chevalier in the Empress' army, before he had lost his leg in a carriage accident. She had spent the bulk of her youth living in small Garrison fortresses on the fringes of the Orlesian Empire, learning skills that would allow her to make her way in that world. Her brother had been training to be a soldier while she prepared for the duties of becoming a soldier's wife, or perhaps an officer's. Then news had arrived from the city of Kirkwall, news that had changed everything.

Her Uncle Gaston was dead. He had been on the wrong side of an attempt to unseat Viscountess Amell. He had risen to the rank of Seneschal here in Kirkwall, but had lost it all when his patron, young Daylen Amell, had been defeated.

The death of her uncle had sent House Poole into a tailspin. Their businesses failed and floundered as cousins unprepared to take over tried to fill the seat left by the head of their family. As Uncle Gaston's younger brother, her father had had no choice to take up the reigns lest the family slide in obscurity and collapse.

So the father had left his military life behind, his injuries had all but ended it anyway, the loss of a leg any further chance of military advancement, he might have been chevalier, but without allies he would never have been able to achieve the generalship that had eluded him all his life. He had never thought twice, he had picked up his family and moved to Kirkwall, most, if not all, of Uncle Gaston's contacts had been here, so it was the best possible location to begin to rebuild their house.

Many nobles here were not happy about that. They viewed House Poole as an enemy of House Amell. Many in the Viscountess' house still looked at her family as their enemy. Her brother saw the Amells as a threat that they were trying to control House Poole. Father kept his own counsel on that, but he remained guarded when it came to the Viscountess and her family.

When Lady Solona offered her a position on her court, she was surprised that he did not refuse.

A melancholy smile came to Izzy's lips.

Her mother, Andraste keep her, had done what she could to make her daughter a lady. She had always hoped that Izzy would marry well, and live a life of wealth and nobility. She beautiful enough, or so mother had always said, personally Izzy did not see it. She had never trusted the looks she had received from the men in her father's garrisons, women were few and far between out in the provinces.

A soldier's eye in such a situation was hardly a good judge of beauty. Any woman would do for such men.

Mother would have approved of her joining the Viscountess' court, even if it was only as one of the Viscountess' handmaidens. It was a place to be seen; she stood next to the throne during court, awaiting her mistress' orders. From such a position, many a young noble would see her, and perhaps grow curious about her.

Who knows, she thought, my future husband might just walk into the court one day. Who is that girl, he would ask.

And that is where it would all begin.

An elven page rushed past her, he did not bump into her, but she had been forced to take a step back and bumped into a one of the servant's ladders.

She tried to move away quickly but her left foot was caught behind her right.

She started to fall.

She squeaked with terror, her inkwell started to go, likely to douse her face.

A pair of firm hands stopped her, one on her shoulder, and the other at her waist.

"Easy," she heard a cool male voice growl.

She blushed pure scarlet.

It would be him, wouldn't it?

"Thank you, Ser Fenris," she cooed, "That could have been very bad."

The elven warrior snorted.

"I'm no, ser," he reminded her, "and you should be more careful, many here would enjoy seeing your embarrassment."

She gave him a sheepish grin.

She understood that quite well.

She found herself staring at her savior; Fenris was unlike any elf she had ever met. Most she had known were servants, simpering or fawning in their manner. He was not like that. Fenris carried himself with the confidence of a true warrior born; she had seen many such men during her days in the provinces. The spiky Tevinter armor he wore seemed almost like a second skin. His markings and silver hair reminded her a bit of the spotted hunting cats she had seen brought back to the keep, even in death they spoke of the strength of a predator.

Those eyes of his, they…they…

Her blush darkened.

They also spoke of danger and strength.

They frightened her, but also…filled her with a strange excitement.

Unlike the rest of the Viscountess' allies, he had never looked upon her with distrust. Perhaps he did not see a threat, or maybe he was the one trusted by his mistress to make sure that she did not betray them?

If that was the case, she would never give him reason to doubt her. She could feel the strength in him.

She had no desire to see such fierceness directed at her.

"Esmeralda?"

Lady Leandra's voice took her out of her musings.

She gave Fenris a slight curtsey.

"Um…good day, ser," she murmured

She rushed off before he could say more, likely to deny her high opinion of him.

She smiled to herself.

Fenris might not be a knight in name, but he was definitely one in manner.

She had seen enough knights in her time to know that to be true.

She managed to catch up to Lady Leandra; the woman had been speaking with the elf in charge of the place settings. Something about keeping the Trevelyans and the Delauncets apart, some old family squabble apparently.

Izzy made note of the change in place settings, something that would not offend the Comte or the Bann. Once Leandra thought the matter settled they were off again.

This time she moved slower, allowing the girl to catch up. Izzy came up alongside the older woman.

She gave the girl a knowing smile.

"Is something going on between you and Fenris, dear?"

The question shocked Izzy. Few nobles would just…blurt out such a question.

It had caught her off guard.

"I…um…I do not believe that would be appropriate, Lady Leandra," she said quickly, "Not only that, but I'm certain my family would not approve."

"True," the elder noble agreed, "But if experience has taught me anything, dear. It is that the heart wants what it wants, regardless of duty and noble upbringing.

The girl's blush darkened.

Careful girl, this could be trap.

Her Father's warning about the Amells trying to destroy their house slowed her answer, but did not stop it totally.

She had heard the tales about Leandra Hawke of course. The story said that she had eloped as a girl with a Fereldan apostate, that she had not returned until years later and even then only because as Blight had destroyed her home.

Such a woman would not blame Izzy for…indiscreet thoughts, no matter how inappropriate they were of a girl of her station.

"Ser Fenris is brave and handsome," she told the older woman, "But nothing could come of me pursuing such a…a…dalliance. My family needs me to do what is best to further our place here. Certainly, you can understand that?"

The older woman paused, her eyebrow rose in surprise.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Izzy immediately regretted them.

What had she been thinking?!

Leandra was well loved by the Viscountess, and she had just insulted the woman.

It had been a stupid move.

Then Leandra did something that surprised her.

The older woman chuckled.

"I do understand dear," she said, "But I also know that the heart of a young woman is not so quick to change direction."

Izzy shook her head.

"Perhaps, it is better not to start down that path in the first place."

Again Lady Hawke gave her that same knowing smile.

The young girl looked away.

That look made her more than uncomfortable.

It knew too much.

They said nothing further of this, Leandra had not been wrong; they had many things to do before the wedding, many matters to attend to.

It would not do to fall behind; Izzy's family trusted her to remember her place as a member of the court.

She had to remember that.

She needed to keep up.

IOI

Hightown was almost as busy as the Viscount's keep. Merchants had flooded the market place; goods from Orlais, Nevarra, Ferelden, and even Rivain were peddled to the many merchants who had arrived for the big day.

The wedding of the Champion was quickly turning into quite an event. Garrett Hawke's actions during the Qunari attack were well known, perhaps more so than the Viscountess facing down the Arishok in single combat. Solona might have defeated the Qunari leader, but it was Hawke who had preserved the nobles who had been threatened by the ox-man's warriors.

No one in Kirkwall had forgotten that fact.

Of course, noble and merchants was not the only people interested in this event. As with most things, not everyone in Kirkwall supported House Amells continued strength and prosperity.

There were always those who thought to end it.

One such man was leaning against a pillar, not far from the Viscount's keep, eating a caramel apple.

There was nothing about him that attracted people's attention, but that was the whole point. Stanley had risen through the ranks of the Winters mercenary company as both spy and assassin.

Few noticed him unless he wanted them to, and by the time they did.

It was too late.

He glanced idly around him, he had been waiting a long time to receive word from Lady Neria, the elven blood mage had been his handler and patron since Lord Daylen had fallen almost two years ago.

Stanley shook his head.

Working for Death's Hand, as many had called Lord Daylen, had been alright, but it had been under Lady Neria's command that he had hit his stride.

The letter that had come to his dead drop had been a bit mysterious, he was to meet a young Ferelden woman here, and tell her what he had found out about both House Amell and House Poole.

Why the agent of his mistress would be interested about the new Pooles was beyond him, but he had learned long ago that it was not smart to ask too many questions.

The nobles had their games, just as he had his.

It was best to stay out of their way.

He had been here for almost an hour when he saw her. Many of the nobles looked at her with disdain as she passed her threadbare clothes, her rough skin and blond hair.

Stanley smiled.

The girl was not so different than many Ferelden refugees that had washed up here after the Blight. Personally, he liked dealing with the Fereldans; they had nothing to lose here and everything to gain.

That made them good allies, good, and disposable.

"Miss?" he sat offering her small bow.

"It is milady, actually," she corrected him.

"My apologies," he said bowing again, "I forget how quickly gold tarnishes."

She smiled recognizing the code words.

"Power doesn't," she said back, "That is why I choose to deal in it."

He smiled; the girl knew his mistress' code. That meant she was for real.

"I'm Stanley," he said, "What can I do for you?"

She smiled; a strange violet flicker came to her eyes.

It made him pause.

He recognized that light, he had seen it before.

Oh Maker.

She grinned savagely.

"My name is Molly," she said, "At least for now."

"You have another in mind?"

"That depends on what you have found," the girl said.

"Tell me, my friend," she purred, "What do you know about Henri Poole and his family."

Again dark magic flickered in the girl's eyes.

"Let's start with his daughter, the girl, Esmeralda."

"Tell me, everything."


	3. Symbols and Threats

**Chapter 3: Symbols and Threats**

"This wedding must go off without a hitch."

Varric arched an eyebrow. He sat at the head of the table in the Viscount's keep, all around him his fellow advisors sat. Sister Hannah represented chantry interests. Athenril spoke for the elves, and the…independent merchants of Lowtown. Lord Sebastian represented the Viscountess directly, after everything that had happened with his brother two years ago, it was decided that it was best that no meeting took place without either the Lord Consort or the Viscountess herself present.

Solona had grown to distrust closed doored meetings, considering what her brother had done, he did not blame her. Daylen Amell had been trusted to protect Kirkwall; instead he had rallied his advisors into a council of traitors. Varric had no desire to do that, but understood where the fear came from.

He smiled at the speaker.

"We will all do our best Sister Hannah."

The chantry sister seemed to relax slightly. The girl had spoken up for Solona after the business with the Qunari; she had rallied Kirkwall around the Viscountess when the Templars had tried to arrest her. Most thought of the girl as too mousey for the position she now held.

Varric did not agree, the girl might be quiet, but she had proved herself here. She had a spine of steel under those robes; she had needed that the day that she had stood up to Meredith.

This council needed that, Kirkwall needed that.

He was grateful she was here.

"Kirkwall needs this," Athenril added, "With the wars finally ending; we need the other cities to see that we are back in full control here. That we have restored order."

"I think the peace accords in Tantervale proved that already, elf," Varric replied.

"Symbolism is important, Milord," Sebastian said, "But we must all realize that the danger has not entirely passed. The Orlesians still remain camped in Ostwick. The Templars have yet to bring the blood mage Neria Surana to heel. Maker Breath, they can't even seem to find her."

The Lord Consort gave them all pointed looks.

"We should not let today distract us from the fact that there is still much to be done."

His eyes focused on Varric.

"You of all people should be aware of that."

The dwarf chuckled.

"My contacts are looking into all that," he promised, "Don't worry choir boy; Her Highnessness' welfare is my main concern.

Sebastian nodded grimly. A look that seemed to say: 'we will see.'

He did not let that look bother him.

Some Hands might feel insulted by Sebastian's comments, but not Varric Tethras. He had been a friend and business associate of House Amell for years now. When Aristide Amell had lost many of his supporters when his eldest son had been taken to the Gallows, it had been the dwarven merchant's guild that had supported him. The old man recognized that a name alone did not make him a ruler, he needed coin as well. Typically, Hightown nobles stayed away from the dwarves, the Viscount had not had that option. Varric had just been their emissary back then; Bartrand had lobbied for the position, and was smart enough to recognize that he might alienate the new ruler of Kirkwall, so he had sent his brother. The guild saw the potential for profit, but they were also leery, Varric had tried to stay out of the politics of the guild, which was likely why Bartrand came to him, he was likely the only one willing to speak with what many dwarven businessmen had felt was simply a transition ruler. If the Amells failed, the guild could wash their hands of the whole business and the lay the blame on Varric. He did not mind that in the least, he did not like them all that much anyway. Aristide had proved them all wrong; he used his investments with the guild to not only rebuild Kirkwall after the mess with the Threnholds, but also to make them all a lot of coin.

Bartrand had taken credit for that of course, but again Varric did not mind. The viscount had become a friend of sorts; he was always willing to help a friend.

When Aristide had passed away, many in the guild feared that his daughter would turn away from them. She had no reason to continue their relationship. Surprisingly, that had not happened, Viscountess Solona had sought **him** out in the Hanged Man only few days after her coronation, she wished to stay true to what her father had built. Varric had spent the afternoon speaking with the young ruler about her father and the deals that they had made together. She agreed to honor those deals, and became a continued business partner of both him and the guild, and as time had gone by become his personal friend as well.

Varric smiled at the memory.

Now he served as her Hand, protecting her interests, and making all those in the guild who saw him as just and errand boy green with envy, that and afraid he might choose friendship over guild interests.

He did nothing to reassure them, let them all squirm, for all he cared. He only served as Hand out of loyalty to Solona.

If Her Highnessness felt she needed her choir boy husband at these meetings, he had no objections.

Varric was no fool, he recognized the fact that they still had dangerous enemies beyond the walls of the keep, but at the same time they couldn't just hide in the keep either. Sister Hannah and Athenril were not wrong.

Kirkwall needed this. Everyone needed to see that House Amell was showing off its power again, confident and secure in their position. He knew that Hawke didn't really care for it, and Aveline would rather not have let her wedding be turned into the event of the year, but they both accepted it for Lady Leandra's sake.

Plus, this wedding went a long way to ensure the nobles and citizens that things were finally getting back to normal in the city. After the civil war and the Qunari that was a good thing.

There were still problems of course, the mage underground continued to harass the Templars, it was made even worse by the fact that the Viscountess herself was a mage. Solona was doing nothing to aid the rebels, but that did not stop the Templars and chantry priests from making those accusations. So far, she had done everything that the Divine asked of her, yet there were still many among the faithful that demanded her removal from office.

These dissidents were being further egged on by the so called Children of Eternity, a group of Chantry fanatics who, despite everything that Solona had done, continued to thrive in Kirkwall's underbelly.

Varric frowned.

The group had been quiet for too long, he did not like that. It hinted that they might be up to something.

He was keeping a close eye on them, just in case, those that he knew about anyway.

The meeting continued, discussions of merchants being allowed into the market for the big day. Then business turned to the guests, which nobles would be granted rooms in the keep, and who could be trusted not to cause too much of a fuss if they were turned away. Which dignitaries would be allowed on the steps of the keep the day of the ceremony, that kind of thing.

Starkhaven would need to be respected, and not just because the Lord Consort was a Vael. Starkhaven was a trusted ally and trading partner of House Amell, they needed to be respected. The Trevelyans of Ostwick were also said to be sending a delegation. The Viscountess wanted them in the keep; she hoped to use Bann Aliza Trevelyan to get Baron Lafaille and his soldiers out of both Ostwick and the Free Marches.

Impressing their family would go a long way towards doing that.

Athenril's ears twitched, she looked around the room.

Varric gave her an arched look.

"Problem, elf?"

"I was hoping to speak with Lady Bethany," she said, "Or Lord Stark, I had a business deal that might benefit the Ferelden refugees."

Varric pursed his lips, not really sure how to answer.

Fortunately he did not have to.

Choir boy beat him to it.

"Lady Bethany has…taken a leave from this council," he informed her, "You will still receive missives regarding the Alienage, but for the most part, she has chosen to focus on the businesses she has purchased in the last year."

Athenril's eyes narrowed.

"Did she take leave on her own, or was this the Viscountess' decision?"

"Her own, though I can certainly understand why you would ask. As for Lord Stark, he has…other duties today."

Varric shook his head.

Bethany Hawke-Bradley's removal from this council was fairly common knowledge at this point.

There were few in the Free Marches who had not heard of the Massacre of Crowns.

Before the peace talks in Tantervale, Lady Bethany had gathered together many of Viscountess Amell's enemies. They had met in a small estate near the Vimmark Mountains supposedly to discuss a plan to remove Solona from power.

Lady Sunshine, though Varric had a hard time thinking of her like that these days, had been behind that. She had shocked not just her family, but the royal court as well. She had gathered so many of the Viscountess' adversaries, she likely could have made a play for the throne had she desired to, but that had not been the point of the meeting, not Bethany's point anyway.

She had just wanted them all in one place, and when they were, she had struck.

The magic she had unleased that day had killed not just the conspirators she had gathered, but their soldiers as well. The dark magics had turned the men and women there into animals; they had literally ripped each other apart.

Varric shuddered.

He had seen the aftermath, it…it had been…

The Massacre of Crowns had been true to its name, so many would be Viscounts and Viscountess dead, but the worst thing had been the architect of that dark affair. The way she had acted in the aftermath, it had been…disturbing.

He had been shocked by how calm Bethany had been afterwards. She had seemed pleased almost smug. In her eyes she had served House Amell.

Solona did not agree.

The act had caused a rift between the two cousins, one that would likely never heal. The fact that Bethany had convinced Lord Stark to help her was even worse.

The dwarf shook his head.

Ser Graydon Stark was, or had been, one of Solona Amell's closest allies. He had supported Bethany's plan, but had claimed to have known nothing about the dark magic that she had intended to unleash, still the damage was done.

Stark was still a member of this council…technically, but he had lost his place at the head of the army, and the trust of his Viscountess. That was a shame itself.

Fenris and Seneschal Bran now held sway over Kirkwall's soldiers, for good or ill. Most of the soldiers accepted the change, but not all…

Then…there was the Fereldan's outside the city.

Among the list of Bethany's victims had been Ser Avery Howell, the leader of the Ferelden refugees here in Kirkwall, with Bethany and Stark's fall from grace, no one was in a position to take up the Fereldans' cause. There had already been problems in the refugee camps as a result.

Hawke did what he could to help; being Fereldan born himself, but his place in the royal family hurt his credibility among the refugees.

It was just another thing that Her Highnessness would have to deal with.

Many Fereldans now felt that they did not have a voice in Kirkwall, add into that the nobles who had lost family in Bethany's massacre. So far none of them had chosen to act on that anger, but according to his contacts, it was still there.

That was another reason this wedding had to happen, any sign of weakness could set off another storm among the nobles. If that happened…?

Varric pursed his lips.

What would come then would make the chaos of Death's Hand's reign look like a summer ball.

It fell to them to make sure that none of these combustible elements mixed.

Kirkwall needed to be strong right now.

They had survived the Threnholds.

They had survived Death Hand.

They had survived the Qunari.

That was what they needed to focus on right now, Kirkwall pride and its strength as a city.

It was about union, first Hawke and Aveline's, then…the city itself.

They needed to hold back the storm…

At least…for now.

**A/N: Next chapter we check in on Daylen and Lord Stark. Also the question of where is Neria will be answered, and look for an appearance of a possible future Inquisitor. Got a lot to say in the next few chapters, hope you all enjoy!**

**Until next time!**

**DG**


	4. Pariahs

**Chapter 4: Pariahs**

It had been a **long** time.

Months had passed since she had last set foot in the Viscount's Keep. Months since the Viscountess had taken her life's work away, the salvation of her people. Though she had been promised that she would be able to work on the Eluvian in safety, she had not dared return, lest the humans steal everything she was trying to accomplish, everything she hoped to give back to her people.

Now she made her way down the cobblestone streets, hot on her feet, the slippers she wore when she was in the keep were in her bag on her shoulder. She despised shoes with soles, and wore them only when she needed.

Part of he wanted to turn around, forget about this, but that voice was so small compared to compulsion that pushed her forward.

She needed to see the mirror again, new ideas had come to her in the last year, she longed to try them out, to try and finish what she had started, to bring the old wisdom back to her people.

Merrill could no longer deny what she knew to be right.

It should have been easy. The Viscountess knew wards that would shield her work from the Templars. She had promised Merrill that she would aid her, that she would let her work on the repairs to the Eluvian. She had made a promise, but as with so many things with the shemlen, promises were quickly forgotten.

Merrill trusted Solona, but she also knew that many things held her attention. Things that drew her away from the promises she had made.

The Qunari attacked, and Lady Solona revealed herself to be a mage to all of Kirkwall. That act brought the Templars to the keep, that and the scrutiny of the Chantry, the very same chantry that supported the fall of the Elvhen homeland in the first place.

The Dalish had lost so much; she could not risk them taking the Eluvian too! They did not leave, the Templars remained, watching the Viscountess, every magical act she performed was now scrutinized and watched for any sign of corruption.

After that…she could not return, not if it meant being discovered, in the Alienage she was just another elf in the crowd, here she was one of the champion's companions that place invited jealousy and scrutiny.

Scrutiny was something that Merrill could not afford.

So she had stayed away, she lived in the Alienage away from her people. Lyna remained at her side, visiting their clan often, and always returning with words meant to convince Merrill to abandon her path and return home, return to the clan that loved her….

Loved her… but still cast her out among the shemlen. If she returned to them, it would be admitting that she had failed, that she had been wrong.

She knew she could not do that. She would not return, not until her work was done, not until she had something to show for everything that she had sacrificed up to the point. Lady Morrigan had shown her that she was on the right track. Lyna's return showed that she was on the right track.

Now she needed to return to work, hopefully, once she had done that…

The dreams would finally stop.

How many nights had she been awakened, how many nights had visions of the Eluvian haunted her rest? She…had…no…she needed to see it again, to continue her work on it. Everything might depend on it, everything, but first, first she needed to do something, something she did not like.

The very thought of that one act made her shiver.

When she did not dream about the mirror, she dreamed about Death's Hand, those long days and nights she had been his prisoner. How many times had he taken her from her cell? How many times had he tested his Templar abilities on her? He had harmed her many times, preparing for the fight with his sister, too many…to be sure.

If she was to return to her work, she needed to deal with this, to stand before him and let him know that he no longer had any power over her.

Lyna understood that. She saw the pain her clan mate was in, and recognized that she needed to face this nightmare.

_You cannot let fear of the shemlen govern your life, lethallin,_ Lyna had said, her warm gentle hands cupping Merrill's cheeks, forcing her to meet her gaze.

The Dalish huntress frowned.

_This is one battle that I cannot fight for you, only you can do this, but know, if you do, you have my support._

Merrill had smiled at that, grateful for her Lyna's warmth and trust.

She could do this.

She needed to do this.

She washed and cleaned her old gown; the one Varric had given her when she had spent her days in the court. She had said goodbye to Lyna and started out of the keep, her heart pounding against her rib cage. Old fears threatened to send her running back to her hovel. Yet, she did not falter.

She would face her fear.

She would face Death's Hand, and then…

She would begin work on the Eluvian again.

She needed to do it.

It was for her people and for them…

…she…would do anything.

IOI

No one challenged her as she made her way up the steps to the keep. It had been a while, but the guards still remembered her. She was one of Hawke's companions, and for a time sat in court with Viscountess Amell. No one even considered stopping her, why would they…?

It was not like she was up to no good.

The foyer of the keep was busy; so many people had arrived for Hawke's wedding. Merrill's ears twitched with nervous irritation.

It was so loud in here, how did the Viscountess' people stand it? How did Hawke stand it?

It was as busy as the Lowtown market during lunch hour.

Merrill did her best to squeeze past the passing lords and dignitaries, some shot her dirty looks but said nothing, her clothes marked her as more than just a servant, and a few even blinked when they saw the swirling tattoos that covered her forehead.

She made for the steps that led up to towers, two Viscountess' guards stood near the entrance. She was nervous that they would try to stop her. That they would bar her way. If they did she would likely have to track down Varric or Aveline, but if she did that they would ask too many questions about why she was here, questions that might make her lose her nerve.

She had no desire to explain herself to anyone, even her friends. They might support what she was attempting here, but then again…they might not.

Fortunately, she had worried for nothing, the guards let her path. She murmured a quick thank you and hurried on her way.

_Now,_ she thought, _left at the old suit of armor, than right next to that room with all the old pictures, two lefts more, then the stairwell on the right, or was it left…no it was right…it…_

The Dalish blinked.

_Oh Creators? I'm lost! _

Getting lost was nothing new, it still happened on occasion, even after living in this city for years. There were just too many corners in Kirkwall, and the keep was just as bad.

She stopped for a moment and tried to retrace her steps. She had only been in the towers only twice, and both times she had been following the Viscountess.

She sighed with frustration.

Why did she have to be so feather headed!

The sound of footsteps approaching almost sent her scrambling for a place to hide. If she had stumbled into a place she was not supposed to be, whoever was coming might get very cross. They would also likely drag her before the Viscountess, that did not worry her, but it would likely put a stop to her plan.

She wanted to think that Solona would understand. She wanted to believe that she would realize why this needed to be done.

If she waited any longer, she would likely lose her courage. She would not allow that.

She swallowed hard and stood up straighter. She decided that she would not cower. She would ask for directions, if they refused her, then she would bring up that she was both a companion of Hawke the Champion, and a friend of the Viscountess…

That would likely, hopefully get her the help she needed.

"Milady Merrill?" a familiar voice said, "What are you doing here?"

She almost smiled.

The creators it seemed favored her this day.

IOI

From his room in the tower, Daylen Amell watched as the wealthy and powerful of Kirkwall flooded Kirkwall. The streets were full down there, a sea of reds, blues, greens, and golds. A royal wedding always brought out the powerful, this one was no different.

The young noble shook his head.

The last time so many had gathered for a wedding it had been his. Oh, how they flocked to the see the marriage of the Lord Hand and his beloved Lady Poole. Angelique had been so radiant that day, his every desire given form; his future had seemed so bright, so much…potential, but now…

…It was all gone.

For a moment he felt the old anger starting to rise, the unreasoning rage, that had haunted him these last few years.

They stole what was mine!

They are nothing but thieves. They are thieves and usurpers.

Let them all pay!

Let them all burn!

He took a shuddering breath, the anger passed away with it. It no longer had a hold of his soul; he could step back and see the madness for what it was.

Why had he not been able to do that before? Why had he been a slave to it?

He had no answer to that question.

So he sat beside the open window, breathing in the good sea air. He watched the gather crowd below and thought about everything that was likely going on right now.

_They look like ants,_ he thought, _and like ants they would consume my family if they could, if it would bring them even a chance to gain more power._

Even now, there were likely plots being hatched down there. Nobles discussing treason as they fanned themselves and drank from golden goblets of wine, no doubt they all dreamed how to turn this wedding to their advantage.

He did not blame them. It was simply the way the game was played, he knew that well.

He had been a very skilled player once. He…

"Planning on jumping, Your Lordship?"

He glanced towards the door, Ser Graydon Stark stood before him, and if he was not mistaken, Hawke's little friend Merrill.

He gave them both a sad smile.

"Would that please you?"

"Not I," Stark said coldly, "But Lord Hawke might consider it a good wedding present."

Daylen frowned.

"That is a rather cruel thing to say, is it not Lord Stark?"

Merrill stepped out behind him, for a moment he realized the error in him just sitting by an open window. He knew about Merrill's magic, he had seen it first-hand.

If she decided to push him…?

"You," The Dalish stammered, her slender arms shaking her hands clenched into fists.

"You…you…you," she repeated.

He made no sudden moves, any move really, any such movement might just result in his death.

He simply sat there, not even trying to close the window.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, Milady?" he inquired, "Do you wish to call me a monster? Do you wish to throttle me for what happened while you were…my…guest here?"

Stark glanced nervously between the two. No doubt trying to decide who he should protect if this went bad. What had she said to him that he allowed her to accompany him up here? Perhaps this was his sister's justice, perhaps she had allowed this and the Dalish was to be his executioner.

If she was…so be it.

Daylen had no intention of resisting. What he had done, both as Viscount and after was unforgivable. It almost felt like those acts were committed by someone else. That he had read about them instead of actually doing them.

Whatever had happened to him, he doubted that a simple apology to the Dalish girl would be sufficient.

She was…furious, terrified, a bit of both perhaps…likely in equal measure.

"You want to kill me," he said, "I don't blame you."

He gave her a sad smile.

"There is nothing I can do to make up for what I did," he began, "You did what you could to save me when I lost my hand, and I repaid that kindness with treachery."

Merrill blinked, perhaps the girl had not expected this, she looked pale with fear but her eyes flashed with anger.

"There is nothing you can do…you…you shemlen," she spat angrily, "I'm **not** afraid of you! You **won't **hurt me again! Do you hear me! **I won't let you!" **

Stark remained where he was, simply watching the confrontation going on in front of him. Daylen doubted he would get involved if they came to blows, not that it would be much of a fight. A Dalish blood mage against a one handed, unarmed cripple.

"I hear you," he said in the most soothing tone he could manage, "I'll never try and hurt you again. I swear on my mother's ashes."

Some of the tension went out of her, but it was clear that she still felt like a hare being watched by a fox.

"Good," she said, "Just…just you remember that. I'm not your victim, and I never will be again."

She spun on her heel and fled the room, the two guards outside parted quickly letting her pass. She might have slammed the door dramatically, if she had been thinking.

Still, Daylen said nothing; there was really nothing for him to say.

He did not doubt that Merrill could kill him if she wanted. He did not doubt it in the least. He had fought beside her and Hawke after all.

He knew at least some of what she was capable of, and why her people had cast her out in the first place.

He turned to Lord Stark; the knight had said nothing since his early barb. He had been the one trusted to escort Daylen from his room to the meetings where he continued to give up what he knew about his old allies.

The young noble suppressed a desire to sneer.

Stark had once been a climber here in Kirkwall, he had had the faith of the Viscountess and the loyalty of the army. Daylen had not heard all the details of what had happened in the Vimmark Mountains when Avery Howell was killed, but he knew enough.

Stark had been one of the masterminds of that plan. That he had had violated a personal order of the Viscountess. His sister was sometimes too merciful for her own good. The fact that Stark had been reduced to being Daylen's babysitter was proof of how angry his sister was.

Perhaps that was why he had allowed Merrill to accompany him, perhaps he was feeling lonely. Perhaps, he was just another pariah searching for the company of another?

Not that the reason mattered now, of course. Solona had made her judgment, now Stark had to live it with it.

The man should have been happy, he thought, Solona could have had him banished, or beheaded.

"Is it time?" he asked his escort.

Stark nodded.

Daylen straightened his robes and followed him out into the hall. He wore no shackles to these meetings, they were unnecessary, but the two guards behind him, Stark next to him, and the two guards in front were more than just for show.

Solona was taking no chances with him, one attempt to flee, and he would die.

Daylen smiled.

It was nice to know his sister had learned something during their conflict.

He glanced over at Stark. He gave the man his most winning smile.

"How is your lady friend," he asked.

Stark glared daggers at him, the man's look spoke of a slow and painful death. Stark's lover Naishe, formerly known as Tallis and before that Isabela was a sore subject between the two men. That was not surprising, given that it had been Daylen that had turned her over to the Qunari in the first place.

Stark was extremely protective of her. He loved her, but had she not joined the Qun, the two of them would likely have never met, who knew, maybe Hawke would be marrying her now instead of the guard captain?

It was something to ponder, if nothing else.

"You will not mention Naishe again, Your Lordship," Stark growled, "If you do I will do something most unpleasant to you."

Daylen almost chuckled.

He was already imprisoned; an executioner's ax awaited him if he stepped out of line even once. Not to mention the fact that many of his old allies likely wanted him dead now, including his former lover, Neria."

If she got ahold of him, Starks threats would likely be like a cool swim on a hot summer day by comparison.

"As you wish," he said dismissively, "I trust the last information I gave you proved valuable?"

Stark grunted in response.

"We seized two more of your old weapons caches, no guards though. They seem to have been abandoned months ago, nothing had been touched."

Daylen considered that. He was surprised that Neria had not cleared out everything in that cache, or at the very least had used it to set a trap, the fact that she had not left one very interesting question.

What had happened to Neria? Surely the little elven blood mage had not given up, and if she hadn't given up, what was she up to now?

He pursed his lips in thought.

Where would she go?

IOI

While Daylen Amell was considering that question, almost half a world away, it was being answered.

Another pariah was about to begin her mission.

Neria Surana, blood mage, and once a servant in House Poole was roused from her sleep by heavy knocking on her cabin door.

The elf started, but calmed quickly as her mind returned to wakefulness, leaving the beauty of the fade behind. She was like most mages, she could dream with complete consciousness, and used the fade to commune with her patron, the demon known as Famish.

She sighed heavily.

He was not very pleased with her latest choice.

We have arrived, Milady," the sailor said loudly, "We will be in the city within the hour."

She slid out of bed, quickly wrapping herself in her scarlet robe; the sea air coming through the window was cold on her nude body, especially now that she was no longer indulging in idle pleasures.

She looked down on the bed. Feynriel, her servant was still sound asleep, the dreamer was often tortured by demons when he tried to rest, but had quickly discovered that sharing his night with another left him too exhausted to be troubled by them.

Neria smirked as she ran her hand through her short red hair, making sure that each little braid was presentable.

She had always hated sleeping alone. Feynriel was not her first choice of lovers, but he could be trusted. He was so in awe of her that he obeyed her whims without question.

He was powerful, likely more so than hurt, but she had broken him to her will early, now he was a willing servant.

She would need that in the days to come.

When Daylen had first proposed this latest scheme to her she had been intrigued, it was cunning, and ruthless, far more than anything else they had attempted since the loss of Angelique and Kirkwall. His willingness to include her in it, had gone a long way to repairing their relationship, which had been majorly strained in the past few months.

Now, she was on her way to a foreign land, gathering what was needed for the next stage of this latest scheme. It would no doubt require all her wits and skill, but that did not bother her.

She had confidence in her abilities.

She let Feynriel sleep. She might need him later, for now she pulled on her slippers and made her way up on deck. None of the sailors looked at her as she made her way to the bow of the ship. The Faithless that accompanied her had quickly broken these men of any lustful glances they might direct her way.

Neria did not mind such glances of course, but she preferred they come from her betters, not her lessers.

So much the better because she could use those feelings to control those betters, and bring victory to her lord and patron.

Her ears twitched as she saw the great city rising in the distance. She had never been this far north before, and likely would not go farther.

She had no intention of drifting into the arms of the Qunari. Some might hold a grudge for what happened in Kirkwall. Still she had little to fear from the ox-men here.

Here, another power ruled, a far older one.

She smiled serenely.

"Good morning, Minrathous," she purred excitedly.

"I think we are going to get along just fine."


	5. Just one Day

**Chapter 5: Just one Day**

The bride stared at the stranger in the mirror, no longer recognizing the woman she saw there.

She pursed her lips, unsure what to say.

The dress Solona had found for her was quite beautiful, elegant really. It flowed gently down her hips like water, the bodice fit snuggly to her chest, showing off her shoulders and neck, the seamstress had complained at first that her arms were too muscular to look right in such a garment, but still the Orlesian had refused to yield, she solved the problem by making the arms more…puffy, like silken clouds they ran down to her hands which ended with delicate pearl lined sleeves.

Aveline shook her head, she had sat patiently while the Viscountess' ladies had applied makeup to her face, rouging her cheeks and applying just a slight coat of lipstick. The head band she traditionally wore was gone, replaced with a pearl tiara. It had been chosen by her future mother-in-law. A simple gold chain around her neck completed the look.

The bride tilted her head slightly, trying to find herself in the fragile doll that stared back at her from the mirror.

Beautiful yes, but it still did not feel like her.

She sighed heavily.

"I look ridiculous," she said sullenly.

Behind her the Viscountess smiled, perhaps a little surprised that Aveline could be so morose on her own wedding day. Several of her ladies in waiting clucked like hens as they defended Aveline's look.

Solona did not even bother.

The bride knew that it was just more bullshit.

_You should not say such things Milady._

_You look beautiful Milady._

_Lord Hawke will not believe his eyes._

Aveline **could** believe the last part. She did not quite believe her **own** eyes. This…this wasn't her, it was a spectacle, and she felt like some prize mare or bitch being paraded before people she had never really given a damn about impressing. Their safety is all that mattered, now…

She sighed again.

_How would anyone take her seriously after this? Even the words of the ladies of the court could not raise her spirits._

The Viscountess, clad in the black and gray robes of state, put her hands on Aveline's shoulder, making her look once more in the mirror.

"It is not an easy thing," she said softly, "Being the center of attention. I've faced it many times over the years and it never gets any easier."

Aveline's lips curved upward slightly, not quite a smile but close.

"Ever considering just leaving," she inquired, "just slipping away and never coming back?"

"More times than I can think of," the ruler said with a light hearted chuckle.

She gave Aveline a warm smile.

"Try and enjoy this moment," she said, "I have known more than a few women in my time that would have welcomed being the bride in such a grand affair. Maker knows what little girl didn't grow up wanting to be a princess, to marry her love in the grandest of ceremonies?"

Aveline pursed her lips.

Perhaps that was the problem. She had never really gotten the chance to be a little girl. Her mother had died when she was very young, so her father had raised her the only way he had known how. Benoit Du Lac had loved his daughter, but had little experience in trying to raise a little girl. From the very beginning he had taught how to be a soldier. He had thought sharing the name of the legendary female chevalier would bless her in that endeavor. She had never become the knight he wanted her to be, she had been a good soldier sure, but she had done it on her terms, and no one else's.

He had always been proud of that, his big girl.

What would he have said about this day? He likely would have been pleased that she had finally found her way into a noble house. He likely still would have been hard on Hawke though.

What father was not hard on his future son in law?

Izzy Poole, one of the Viscountess' Ladies in waiting joined her mistress at Aveline's side. The Guard Captain tried very hard not to look at the girl as an enemy. Her resemblance to the late Viscountess Angelique Poole-Amell still made Aveline very wary.

Lady Angelique had been a holy terror. She had inspired the Viscountess' brother to greater and greater acts of depravity.

She feared that the girl's naiveté was just an act, a means to get closer to Solona for some dark purpose.

It was an unfair assessment of course, but it was a rare thing when life was fair.

"You're very fortunate to have found such a good man, Milady," the girl cooed, "There are few women in this city who would not welcome a union with House Amell, much less a chance to wed the famed Champion of Kirkwall. "

The girl smiled brightly.

"Today you are the envy of every lady in our fair city. It may not be what you are used to, but you should embrace such good fortune, who knows…"

The girl's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"You might actually start enjoying it."

Aveline's eye returned to the mirror. She had never considered herself the object of any source of female envy. She was a soldier, not some doll who needed a strong arm to protect her. Hawke had accepted that long ago, it was probably the main reason that their relationship worked so well in the first place.

Still…both the Viscountess and her young courtier made very good points

The Guard Captain turned bride understood what they were trying to do, so she said nothing more, but still could not help feeling like a fool.

What made her think she could actually pull this off?

She had only agreed to all this because Leandra had asked it of her. The Hawkes were the closest thing to a family she had here in Kirkwall. They could have set her adrift after they first arrived in the city, but instead chose to keep her close. Every opportunity that she had had in the last few years was because of her relationship with the Hawke Family.

Now she was going to become one of them.

Garrett was a good man, a bit of a rogue to be sure, but a good man. When she had first joined the city guard she had been afraid that his…business interests would result in her having to arrest him. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, and slowly her affection for him had grown beyond mere friendship.

It was in that moment that she was suddenly struck by a wave of deep nerve shredding terror, panic that burned deeper than anything else she had faced on the battlefield.

What if she could not do this?! It had been a long time since she had married Wesley, and even then they had spent much of their time apart. She was a soldier and he a Templar.

What if she was not capable of being the wife that Hawke deserved?

She…she did not know how to be a proper noble wife. The mere idea of it was terrifying, she…she…

Solona frowned.

"Are you all right Aveline?"

The bride swallowed hard. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She felt on the verge of panic, of rushing out of the room and not stopping until she had left Kirkwall far behind her.

No she was no was definitely not all right, but that would not stop her.

_Fear is just another enemy my big girl. It can be conquered like any other. You just need the strength to endure it._

Her father had said those words to her a long time ago. Thinking of Benoit Du Lac's strong yet kind face revitalized her, filling her up with renewed courage.

She was stronger than **this**. She was letting all this talk of little girls and grand opportunities get to her. It was giving her an extreme case of wedding jitters.

She had faced lethal foes in combat, and had survived. She had fought at Ostagar and emerged alive. She and Hawke had survived things that would have broken lesser people.

Was facing the nobles of Kirkwall really so different? This wasn't combat, not the combat she was used to anyway, but that did not mean that this was not simply another battlefield. The rules of engagement were different, but that did not mean that they could not be learned, or endured.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm…I'm fine, Your Excellency, just a little nervous I suppose."

Solona's smile returned.

"It is just nerves, trust me, they will go away once you're up there. Cousin Garrett will be there too, if you need strength, you don't have to go very far to find it."

Aveline smiled slightly.

She could do this, and the Viscountess was right.

Hawke **would** be with her, every step of the way.

Realizing that fact further bolstered her confidence.

_It would be the two of them against the world. They would be husband and wife._

_What foe could even hope to stand again them?_

Aveline straightened her back, centering herself, she still felt stupid in this dress, but suddenly everything did not seem as daunting.

She gave Solona and Izzy a grateful look.

"Thank you."

The other women smiled in response.

The rest of the ladies in waiting twittered more words of encouragement, no doubt seeing that the danger had passed.

Aveline looked back in the mirror and shook her head.

"What do you think Bethany would say about all this,"provided we could get her to stop giggling and answer."

Mentioning Hawke's sister changed the mood in the room. Solona became quiet, while the rest of her entourage looked away, not wishing to draw attention to themselves, only Izzy remained oblivious, and that was only because she did not know Bethany the way the others did, or had.

Immediately Aveline regretted bringing the girl up.

There had been a time when Bethany and Solona had been as close as sisters, but after everything that had happened in the last year, things had changed greatly.

Few people knew the full story of the Massacre of Crowns. Most saw Hawke's sister as an innocent victim, a poor girl led astray by an evil seducer. No doubt, Avery Howell had thought he had the Champion's sister on a leash.

Thinking such things had led to the treacherous knight's downfall. He died like all the others at their treacherous conclave…

And Bethany had been the architect of it.

She still claimed that she had done it for Solona, her and the rest of their family, but few would admit that it been a good thing.

The magic that Bethany had used, it was dark no question. It wasn't blood magic exactly, but the effects had been the same.

Everyone but her…had died…horribly.

So many of House Amell's rivals were dead, it should have been a good thing, but Bethany's reaction to the act had come to give those who loved her pause.

Bethany Hawke-Bradley had been a good woman, a kind woman. Yet, something had changed within her. She had manipulated the Viscountess' enemies into meeting to discuss an alliance and slaughtered them all like animals.

It had been an appalling act, but worse had been her reaction.

She felt completely justified, righteous in fact. If anything Hawke's little sister now thought them all weak for not accepting her gift in the spirit in which it had been given.

Bethany avoided the Viscount's Keep these days. She spent most of her time on the road between Kirkwall and its neighboring cities. When she did come home she avoided Solona altogether. She would often visit with mother, and let her son play with Solona's children but that was about it.

The friendship the two women had shared had been irrevocably…severed.

She really should not have said anything about Bethany.

Solona's demeanor remained icy, but she did answer Aveline's question.

"She says she is coming, but do not be surprised if she shows up late. She has guests constantly in and out of her estate these days. Even I do not know what goes on inside.

The bride took a moment to digest this.

She had not been aware that the Viscountess had people watching Bethany these days. Hawke certainly would not have approved, but then again, he had developed sort of a blind spot about his little sister, to him she was simply the sweet natured girl that had fled Lothering with them. Part of him even wanted to believe the story that Bethany had spun about Howell and his allies, that it had all been some magical plot gone mad, and that she had had nothing to do with it.

Aveline could not afford to live under such illusions. What Bethany had done, it changed a person, and who was to say that it would be the first and only time. She had gotten away with the act.

The next time she might try something else, something grander…

…and…more deadly.

It was Izzy that broke the dark cloud that had fallen over the room. She hurried over and grabbed the lovely white shoes that had been made to compliment the dress, a gift from Leliana Cousland, a good friend of House Amell, and the left hand of the Divine.

The girl smiled gamely.

"Your shoes, Milady," she cooed.

Aveline glared at the things like they were some venomous serpent.

Heels? Really?

It seemed that Lord Aedan's red haired trickster desired to see on her fall on face the moment she stepped out of the noble chariot.

She gave the Viscountess a long suffering look.

"I swear," She grumbled, "You want to make my husband a widower on his own wedding day."

Solona brightened.

"It isn't so bad," she said, "The heels are a lot lower than the ones you wore at the Satinalia ball a few years back, and we still have a few more hours before the ceremony starts."

The Viscountess grinned.

"Plenty of time to practice," she said.

The bride gave her a sick look.

"You hate me don't you?"

Izzy Poole giggled behind her.

Again Aveline shook her head.

"Can't I just wear a good pair of boots?"

Two of the ladies in waiting gasped, shocked by the very thought of such a thing, one looked like she might actually faint. The rest broke into the refrain of how beautiful she was going to look again.

The bride rolled her eyes.

It was just one day she reminded herself. Then she and Hawke would be on their honeymoon, and then they could come back and everything would go back to normal.

Aveline pursed her lips.

…As normal as Kirkwall got, at least.

The wedding had been planned down to the last detail; Lady Leandra had left nothing to chance.

Aveline took some degree of comfort in that.

With the wars finally over, and Daylen Amell a captive one thing was certain.

Whatever happened…

…The worst was over.


	6. The Glorious Event

**Chapter 6: The Glorious Event**

As with all things in the Maker's world, the day finally came.

The wedding of Garrett Hawke and Aveline Vallen was seen as the event in the year 9:35 Dragon. After so much chaos in the Free Marches these past few years, most welcomed the return to normalcy. The great and near great descended on the City of Chains, eager to be a part of the festivities, or to bear witness should something go wrong, something…interesting.

Some even welcomed such a happening, even though they would not openly admit it.

No, everyone was smiles on this bright sunny wedding day, even if a few of those smiles were simply masks, hiding darker intentions.

There were more than a few in Kirkwall who would welcome any problems for House Amell, even if they would not say it.

This event provided the perfect chance for troublemaking.

Royal weddings were not just about the joining of two souls, they were opportunities. Where the wealthy gathered plots were hatched and schemes began. In places like the Violet Hem the powerful discussed the day's events over their morning meals, and spoke quietly about things that needed to come in the near future. Many a noble and merchant asked themselves what this wedding meant for Kirkwall, and how could they turn what was about to happen to their advantage.

Representatives from Tantervale, Ostwick, and Wycome had all come to pay homage to the Champion of Kirkwall and his new bride. Ambassadors from both Nevarra and Orlais had also come, bringing the well wishes of their respected monarchs and offering the Maker's blessing on this most joyous of days.

Even a grey warden or two had come to bear witness. Lieutenant Commander Leonie of Ferelden was said to be an old friend of both the bride and the groom. She also brought tidings from the hero Aedan Cousland, who had long been an ally of House Amell. Rumors flew, as they often did, wondering what the wardens were playing at on the day of the Champion's nuptials.

At the appointed hour, the royal family arrived at the Chantry, the bells overhead rang long and loud honoring this most splendid event. The People of Kirkwall flooded the streets, eager to see a glimpse of the champion and his blushing bride.

House Amell stood on the top of the steps awaiting the happy couple's arrival. On the right side, Solona and Sebastian stood side by side; The Viscountess wore the traditional robes of state, while her husband wore a uniform cut in a traditional Starkhaven military style, befitting a man who had once been groomed to command that fine city's militia.

At their side were their three children. The toddlers held their parents' hands while the massive crowd looked on. Prince Perrin was dressed in a uniform identical to that of his father, while Princess Livia and their adopted daughter Angie wore gowns of light green. The little ones were in awe of the sea of people below them; it was rare that Solona let her children be seen in public, so it was not surprising that so many people were drawn to the sight of both the ruler of Kirkwall and her heirs.

On the left side stood the members of Garrett Hawke's immediate family, Lady Leandra wore a pale blue gown; the silver chain around her neck was studded with sapphires, a gift from her youngest daughter not long ago. The Amell crest was emblazoned at its center, marking the elder noble as matriarch that she had become following the death of Lady Revka Amell several years earlier.

Bethany Hawke-Bradley stood at her mother's side, it the last few months she had distanced herself from the rest of their house, and had become a bit of a black sheep among her relatives. Today was no different, while they had all chosen gentle pastel colors or basic black; Bethany had chosen to shine brighter than her fellows.

The gown she wore was the color of red flame or fresh blood, fine crimson silk adorned her still shapely form, she wore hair up today showing off her neck and gold chains the wealth of her position had granted her. Long black gloves and a fine wide brimmed had from Orlais completed the young noble's attire.

She had shown up later than the others, but just in time to take her place. The Viscountess tried to catch her eye, but, as always lately her young cousin avoided her, refusing to even meet her gaze.

The move saddened Solona.

Once they had been as close as sisters, but now…now…

She did not even know who Bethany Hawke was anymore.

Between Mother and daughter stood little Carver Bradley, Bethany's son. The boy's clothes showcased the wealth of his family, but the playful innocence in his eyes, showed that he was not like his mother in the least.

They were such a sharp contrast, mother and son, Bethany loved him dearly, that was clear, but she remained aloof now, even with her own child at her side, long gone was the doting mother who had first gave birth to the child almost three years ago.

In her place was someone more powerful, but alas…much, much colder.

The boy tried to get his cousins' attention, trying to tempt the other children to come and play. His mother kept one hand gently on the boy's shoulder, making sure that he did not go running off or get into any trouble.

The arrival of the wedding chariot officially began the grand event; the bride's arrival was greeted with bot cheering and song. Aveline was trying to remain calm, despite not used to being the center of attention.

Solona knew how she felt; she had taken this ride three times herself, once for her own wedding and twice for her coronations. The guard captain did well though; she remained calm and poised despite her trepidation for the gown and her problem with walking in heels.

The bride made her way up the steps, leading into the chantry itself. Her new family greeting her as was proper. The Champion awaited her inside, standing beside the grand cleric who would perform the ceremony and usher the two into their new life together.

Leandra Hawke had tears in her eyes as she watched her new daughter walk down the aisle, happy to finally see her son no longer alone in this world. Bethany smiled at her new sister as she passed by, but that smile never touched her eyes. It was hard to gage her emotions now, every smile had become a mask, and few saw the true woman underneath, but today that did not matter.

Today was for Garrett and Aveline.

Today was a triumph of peace over chaos.

Today…love was to reign.

IOI

After the ceremony, the royal family retired to the keep for the wedding feast, to some this was even a grander event that the wedding itself, it was here that they could get a chance to speak with not the just the bride and groom but the Viscountess as well.

It was here that their ambitions could be tended to.

Solona and Sebastian made the rounds through the keep's main ballroom, taking the time to offer greetings the various dignitaries and guests. Occasionally stopping back at the family table to make sure the children were alright and behaving themselves. Leandra, of course kept close watch on them, she welcomed the chance to interact with the little ones, and they seemed to welcome the attention of their 'Grammy Lea.'

Garrett and Aveline sat at the head of the grand table, taking turns feeding each other fruit or cake. Soon they would leave to start their honeymoon. Aveline had wished to travel to Val Royeaux, her father had told her many tales about the city during her childhood, and at long last she wished to see it firsthand. Garrett had agreed of course, he might have been a proud Fereldan, but even he could see the value of getting away from Kirkwall for a while, and if he could do so in the company of the woman he loved, why not?

It was always nice to have someone to share your travels with.

Solona smiled slightly at the sight of the happy couple. Aveline had been absolutely horrified about the whole spectacle of today, and had likely only agreed to it because of her friendship with Leandra. Now that all the ritual was over the bride was finally able to relax and be herself again. She was even smiling and laughing, though that might have been the wine.

The Viscountess pursed her lips in amusement.

It was nice to the see the guard captain let her hair down once and a while, hopefully she and Garrett could both find the happiness they both deserved.

After the events of the last few years, a little happiness would be welcome.

It was shortly after the guests of honor left to begin their honeymoon that Sebastian made his way through the crowd, once again taking his place at her side. He looked weary, not that she blamed him in the least.

No doubt he had grown tired of all the mingling, and fawning. Solona could not blame him.

It was not something she was overly fond of herself.

She gave him a knowing smirk.

"How are the great and near great," she asked.

"Content, for now, my love," he answered with a hint of a smile, Sebastian, having grown up surrounded by the intrigues of the court of Starkhaven knew well the various games that nobles played at these grand events. Once he had even sought to be a player himself. Now he did what he could to help his wife avoid the worst of them.

The Lord Consort seemed pleased with how things were going, it was a sentiment that she whole hardily agreed with. It seemed that House Amell had achieved everything it had needed to this eve.

It would hard to doubt Solona's strength now.

All around them the guests continued to move through the room like flocks of birds. Grouping for a few moments then breaking a part, grouping and breaking apart.

Most came to offer simple congratulations to the happy couple, but a few had come to discuss business and not all of them with the Viscountess.

She frowned slightly as she once again caught sight of Cousin Bethany, this time engaged in polite conversation with several representatives from the City of Hasmal.

Solona had heard much about Cousin Bethany this evening.

The young noble woman had spent the evening playing up dramatically the events that had led up to the massacre of crowns, and how she had been an innocent victim caught up in that storm. She spoke of how Ser Avery Howell had manipulated her, how she had feared for her life, and how he had planned to use her as a bargaining chip in his sick scheme to overthrow House Amell. When she spoke of the chaos that happened later, she had had most of the nobles in attendance looking upon her with sympathy. All offering her their condolences, and commenting on how strong she must have been to survive such a horrible ordeal.

The Viscountess, of course, said nothing, she knew the real truth behind those events. Ser Avery Howell, a treacherous Fereldan knight who had once one of her brother's closest advisors, might have been there, but it had been Bethany's wealth that had gathered so many to his side in the first place.

Howell might have thought Bethany a fellow conspirator, or perhaps simply an innocent dupe. It was impossible to know now…he had lost his life with everyone else that night.

Only Bethany remained now, and she used her…survival to propel herself to even greater heights here in Kirkwall. It was an ascent that Solona might have to check one day, if their family was to remain safe.

Such thoughts did not agree with the Viscountess, but what could she do?

For the moment she could do nothing to act. She had no desire to alienate Leandra or Garrett, though she feared that she might have to in the coming days.

Her cousin had disobeyed a direct order, if she did nothing, it might encourage others to do the same. Or Bethany might decide that only she knew what was best for their family, and perform further acts of destruction.

The Viscountess could not allow that to happen.

It was then that she noticed Ser Graydon Stark moving through the crowd, the dark haired Ferelden born knight was not hard to spot, his dark clothes and fur lined cape stood out among the rest of the marcher nobles and merchants. Once he had been a climber among her court, a man with a future, but had fallen into disfavor recently. While his Viscountess had been on a peace mission he had waged war on her enemies, without either her permission or knowledge. His success protected him for now, but that would not last forever. It had been his men's swords that had killed so many during the massacre of crowns, everyone in this room no doubt knew that, but that was not why that the knight was hard to miss.

Many nobles and merchants' eyes were drawn to Stark, or rather the woman walking at his side, her arm entwined with his.

It was hard not to take note of the vision of beauty currently clinging there.

The Lady Naishe, once the pirate queen Isabela, seemed shy and out of place among so many of the rich and powerful. Her golden eyes darted around the room, no doubt looking for an escape route, not surprising considering the people that made up this crowd. Once she would have moved effortlessly among them, a shark happy to swim among the piranha, swaying in her hips with a cruel amused smile on her face. Now, that woman was gone. After being forced to convert to the Qun, the woman had lost much of the haughty arrogance that had made her a predator even among such deadly prey.

Many of the men and perhaps even a few of the women looked on the pair with a mix of jealousy, lust, or both. Even in disgrace Stark was a handsome figure, and his lady, clad in a gown of silver and light violet, cut low in front in showed off the Qunari woman's best features.

One would have to be dead not to notice as she passed by.

Solona watched the pair, once upon a time she had considered them her closest friends and allies, but with everything that had happened with Bethany…

It was no longer easy to remain close to them.

Sebastian, no doubt noticing what was going on placed his arm around his wife, lightly kissing her on the cheek.

"This cannot go on much longer," he said.

"It won't," she promised.

"You need to either forgive Ser Graydon, or punish him; this waiting does no one any good. It is hurting you both."

The Viscountess sighed; she knew that he was right in her head, but her heart…

She had stood by and did nothing when Daylen was her lord hand. She had watched as he had become more draconian in his enforcement of her laws. She had refused to see him as anything other than her little brother. He had used that blindness to his advantage and nearly brought their whole family down in the process.

She could not afford to make that mistake again, not with Stark, not with Bethany, or anyone else.

If Stark or Bethany had become her enemy, she would need to deal with them swiftly and without mercy, but that did not mean that she had to like it.

"Your Excellency?"

The Viscountess turned, a man dressed in Orlesian finery stood before her, his features hidden behind a fancy jewel lined mask. Everything about him suggested nobility, but she immediately knew he was not.

The man's accent was not Orlesian, nor was manner, after having lived in Orlais in her youth she knew how to spot one of their dukes or Barons.

No, he spoke with a Kirkwaller accent, and he stood like he was spoiling for a fight.

She smiled gently; so far Sebastian had not noticed what she had seen. One of the Ostwick delegation had caught his attention.

Perhaps there was a way to end this…peacefully

"Is there something I can do for you Milord?" she asked.

The man in the mask chuckled mirthlessly.

"There is much that you can do."

"Them perhaps," she offered, "We might go speak in private."

Again the man laughed.

"I think I would much rather do this here," he said, "As I just said, there is much you could do."

Solona's smile faltered, she had an idea what "This" was.

The man did not seem to be panicking, he was calm, his anger, or rage, was seemingly under control.

When he spoke again, his voice cold and even, though more and more venom continued to seep into it, those guests closest to them were just starting to realize that this was not simply more party mingling, the man stood defiantly before her, clearly gathering his courage.

He continued to glare at the Viscountess.

"Our people suffer constantly in the Gallows, and here you stand…"

"I'm trying to help our people," she said.

He snorted with contempt.

"Help us? Are you mad? You think dressing like one of these fops makes you one of them? That it helps us in any way?"

"They hate us, and you, you play the good little dog while we are whipped and beaten like curs in the Gallows! You should be ashamed; you are not one of them. They would not have you even if you could be! They're all cowards…"

He gestured at the crowd, his voice rising, slowly more of the guests milling around them started to take notice.

Some wisely started to back away.

"COWARDS!" he spat.

Solona stood closer to her husband, preparing to conjure up a magic shield.

The man, the mage, before her, continued to rant.

"You **are **a mage," he snarled, "but you seem to have forgotten that. You have forgotten us; we are your people too…"

He pulled off his gloves and threw them on the tile.

"I've come here to remind you of that."

The crowd began to back away whispering nervously. Backing away from the Viscountess and the man in the mask, only Sebastian remained at her side. He finally realized that this man was not a simple wedding guest.

He finally realized that they were both in danger.

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"You don't want to do this," she said soothingly.

"I think I do," the man said coldly.

"It will make things worse!"

"_Worse_?" he said shrilly, "How can it get any worse! You don't know what it is like!"

The man produced a small knife from his sleeve; guards were already starting to move into position to protect their rulers.

They would not make it in time, not with what the mage had in mind.

The mask covered his face, but Solona was sure he was smiling at her, his eyes shone with a feral light.

…A light that suddenly blazed bright red.

The mage raised the blade high, even as the Viscountess prepared to defend herself.

"DEATH TO ALL TRAITORS," He shouted, "FREEDOM!"

He plunged the blade into his own hand; blood flowed, and then stopped…

It rose into the air like a miss, spinning quickly and violently like a storm.

Solona's shield spell went up as wild magic exploded outward.

One of the guests shrieked.

A blood mage had found his way into the keep.

The nobles were about to learn what that meant.


	7. Chaos and Opportunity

**Chapter 7: Chaos and Opportunity**

Blood magic filled the ballroom, the screams of panicked guests and howls of agony echoed off the high ceilings as the crowd tried to find some kind of escape or cover…

Solona Amell did not have that luxury.

She stood her ground, reinforcing her magical shields and tried to end this before it got any worse. This was not the first time someone had tried to assassinate her, though it was the first time that a mage was the sole culprit.

She had never realized just how powerful a circle mage was…until now.

The Viscountess' eyes narrowed, the spells the man was using were dangerously unstable, and he was pushing himself far beyond the limits of any mage. His eyes glowed red as he directed his foul spell to lash out like a whip at anyone who tried to get near him. The man's disguise was burning away, the noble finery dissolving in the face of such dark power.

She could feel the veil starting to buckle; the man had shown he was beyond reason. How long before he let a demon in? How long before he gave himself over and became an abomination?

If he did that, things would get worse.

"YOU **ARE** NOTHING!" he shrieked, "YOU ARE A TRAITOR TO YOUR OWN KIND! LET MY SACRIFICE HERE BE REMEMBERED _FOREVER!_"

He pushed forward with renewed vigor, her shield started to falter, her pale skin blistering where what little of the blood magic got through, scorching her skin like some foul acid.

Solona gritted her teeth. Simply defending herself wasn't working! She needed to go on the attack, but if she dropped her shield…?

Sebastian was still behind her, he would be caught up in it as well, and he was unarmed, plus, if the shield fell her attacker might be able to direct his magic towards the royal table, the place where Leandra and the children were sitting…

The Viscountess snarled in fury.

She would **not** let that happen, too many had died already in this foolish attack.

Several of the guests had been caught up in the man's spell when he had first cast it; the magic had burned the very flesh from their bones. Twitching skeletons lay on the ground at the blood mage's feet. More party guests had been trampled in the stampede to escape the assassin's spell, those dead bodies also showed signs of starting to dissolve…

She could only imagine what the foul spell would have done to her had she not shielded herself when she did.

Despite the screams and shrieking of the foul magics, the sounds of armored feet could be heard approaching, the Viscountess' guard, and city guardsmen outside had been barred from entering thanks to the panicked crowd trying to escape. Finally, things had cleared out enough that Farris and his people could finally get in.

Her Tevinter born captain's words rang out loudly for all to hear.

"**PROTECT THE LIONESS!"**

"**NO,"** She shouted back, magic making her voice boom like thunder.

"**PROTECT MY FAMILY! LEAVE THIS ASSASSIN TO ME!"**

Whether the guards heard or not she could not say, the blood mage redirected his attack his magic pulsed outward, her men raised their shields, but steel could only protect so much from magic. It scorched and hissed under the assault.

The blood mage laughed.

You could have made this city a paradise for our people. You could have given us home, now you will die here, witch. The flesh melted from your bones. Nothing will stop us! We will be free of the chantry! WE WILL ALL BE FREE!"

He gestured green fire sprang from his fingertips, it settled on the burned bodies.

They twitched and begin to rise.

"Defend me," the mage shrieked, "Death to the mundanes!"

Living corpses, twisted by his magic, hissed and tried to attack her advancing guards.

Solona had seen enough.

Her eyes flared with blue flame!

**She **had had **enough!**

It was exhausting summoning magic without a staff, but she managed.

Blue light leapt from her finger tips, forming knights of pure arcane power.

They attacked the corpses, pushing them back.

She sent out a second wave of power, a pulse of pure magical force.

It flung the assassin back, throwing him back into his own foul spell.

The man howled. His pain weakened his ability to command the spell.

It was the chance they all needed.

The guards were finally able to advance. They cut down several undirected corpses, Farris, with Stark and Fenris at his side, scooped up the children, her three little ones were wailing in fear. Leandra fled after them. Bethany had backed into the farthest corner, Carver hidden behind her; no doubt she shielded him from the worst of the magic with her own more subtle spells.

The Viscountess was a little envious. She was sweating now, exhausted from the sheer effort of shielding herself, and casting without a staff. She had not brought it; she had thought she had not needed it.

That had been a mistake.

One of the guards tossed Sebastian a bow. Her lord husband sent an arrow into the assassin's shoulder, causing him to spin around. One of the guards struck him in the knee with a mace, forcing him to his knees.

The blood mage spat curses as his spell dissipated; it seemed he had reached the limits of his own strength.

Solona did not relax.

Even a fatally wounded animal could be dangerous.

She stepped forward, directing her own magic to dispel the foul acidic cloud the fool had summoned. Her guards had been wise not to slay this man, yet. He should never have gotten this far into the keep undetected.

She intended to find out how he had, and if anyone had put him up to this.

He glared up at her, the mask he wore was pitted with acid burns, his finery was now rags, blisters and burns covered his pale skin.

She glared down at him.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded.

The mage laughed.

Two of her Viscountess' guards raised their spears to his throat, the points just enough to draw blood.

The man glared hatefully at her.

"I will ask again," she said coldly, her voice as grim and as hard as the cliffs of her home.

Blue flame played across her fingers, a small ball formed, a ball that would end the man if he tried anything else.

Who. Let. You. In. Here?"

He spat blood at her.

"You haven't won," he hissed, "We are legion, traitor! You will pay for betraying your people! FREEDOM!"

As quick as a snake, he shoved his head to the side; one of her guard's spears pierced his throat.

"Free…dom…" he mouthed, no longer able to speak.

Solona could say nothing she just stood there, staring in horror.

He struggled for a moment as the blood drained from his body.

Then…he was still.

Solona's knees buckled, she sank to the floor, gasping for breath, and everything hurt.

She stared at the body of the fool, and shook her head.

The stupid fool, she thought.

That stupid damn fool!

IOI

"Lean on me, love."

Sebastian put his arm around Lona's waist; slowly he guided her out of the ballroom, and from there out of the keep. Farris had returned a few moments earlier, letting them both know that Leandra, the children, and the rest of their family were safe. There had been a few scrapes and burns, but for the most part, House Amell had emerged unscathed.

Though pleased with that news, the lord consort also burned with a controlled fury, a black rage that he did not often let out.

Not again, he thought, never again!

It seemed the past was trying to repeat itself.

He would not let them happen.

Several years ago, the bulk of his family in Starkhaven had been slaughtered in their own palace, his mother, his father, his brothers; the Vaels had almost been exterminated, down to the last child. Now assassins dared to come into the keep here and attempt to harm his wife, to murder her in front of her own children!

It was a nightmare, one he had thought of many times over the years, what would happen if someone came here, if they tried to take away his new family…?

No! He would not allow that!

Such an insult should not be forgiven!

He would see whoever was responsible punished!

Of course, justice would need to wait. First they needed to see to the survivors, and he needed to see to Solona.

He looked over at his wife, Solona was pale and winded. Her white hair, usually so immaculate hung in loose strands around her black crown, her face and bare hands were blistered and covered with red burns.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She chuckled mirthlessly.

"I've been better," she confessed.

The lord consort shook his head.

His wife was in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it, he could not even protect her.

The very thought was extremely galling.

This was the second time in the last few months that their home had been violated.

He did not intend for there to be a third.

IOI

Solona groaned as Sebastian helped her sit down on the hard cold steps of the keep, all around them stood the wedding guests, some sobbing, others shouting in vain for people who had died inside. She felt sympathy for these, they had only come here to be seen, to honor the champion and his new bride, they were simply men and women who had come here to honor House Amell, and witness the strength of their family reborn…

What they had gotten was something else, a massacre, twelve people dead, including the Orlesian Marquis who the mage had replaced. The ballroom in shambles, the fires and damage the man had caused would take months to repair, but worse than the damage to the keep and loss of life was the damage to House Amell's reputation. Many would know doubt see this chaos as an opportunity.

The Viscountess coughed.

She wondered if that had been the whole point.

The man was clearly a fanatic; he had had no chance of escape, but had accepted that fact. She was not concerned about him, he was dead, but those that had helped him enter the keep were likely still alive.

They worried her far more.

Sebastian sank down beside her, the children had been taken back upstairs, frightened and wailing, she wanted to go them, but her husband would not allow it, at least not until a healer arrived to take a look at her.

Word had been sent to the circle, to try to figure out who the man was, and if he might have any allies remaining nearby. City guards kept watch while Farris and his people saw to her safety and that of the children.

The Viscountess shook her head. She could only imagine what Knight Commander Meredith was going to see about all this. The Jackal would no doubt be salivating at the chance to have her men searching the keep like deranged blood hounds, they would…

Solona frowned, a thought had just occurred to her.

She blinked as her eyes searched the crowd, not finding what she sought.

The look on her face was enough to get her husband's attentions.

"Is something wrong, love?"

She looked at Sebastian.

"Where are the Templars?" she asked.

"What?" he replied?

"The Templars," she repeated, "We have had at least three Templars in the keep since that business with the Qunari. A Templar could have ended that assassination attempt before it had even begun!"

Her husband blinked.

He glanced around, as did she, Solona remembered seeing at least two of the order standing outside the ballroom when Hawke and Aveline had entered, but now…there was no sign of them, not tending to the wounded, to interviewing witnesses, nothing.

The Viscountess frowned deeply.

Wasn't that a strange coincidence?

As she had said, a Templar could have saved many lives tonight. A Templar could have dispelled that mage's attack, drained his mana before he had even had a chance to cast. Instead the order was strangely absent, not a single knight in sight.

The very thought made her angry.

No doubt the Jackal would be coming, even if it was far too late. No doubt she would have many words for the Viscountess.

That is fine, Solona thought.

"I'll have many words for her as well. She will…

"Viscountess Amell, how nice to see you again."

She and Sebastian looked up. A balding, heavy set man stood before them, his hands hidden within the folds of his robes. The belt drawn across his wide belly marked him as a member of the circle of magi, but even if he had not been wearing such robes she would have recognized him.

After all, the peace that Kirkwall had enjoyed until tonight had been part of his doing.

Despite the pain and exhaustion she felt, she managed a smile.

"Enchanter Tobias," she said softly, "Fancy meeting you here."

Tobias had been…instrumental in convincing her brother to surrender to her, it was he that had first brought the peace accord to Death's Hand, and convinced him to make the journey to Tantervale for peace talks.

Now…in their moment of peril, he was here…again.

She could not help but wonder why,

The portly mage gave her a fawning smile; he bowed his head slightly in respect, a smile that faded slight at the sight of her burns.

"Allow me, Your Excellency," he cooed.

Tobias raised his hand, a slight blue glow flowed from it and into Solona's skin, the blisters faded somewhat and the burns became pink healed skin.

"There," he said brightly, "A minor spell, I know, but hopefully it will do much to ease your pain in such a troubled time."

Solona rubbed her forehead; she could not deny the feeling of relief.

Still, it did not explain the man's presence here. He still served the Teyrn of Ostwick as far as she knew, and the Teyrn was still host to Baron Lafaille, the Orlesian who still sought to usurp her crown and seize Kirkwall for himself.

Enchanter Tobias might not be an enemy, but he was certainly not a friend.

"Such a shame," he said clicking his tongue, "It was such a lovely ceremony. I do hope the bride and groom are safe?"

Solona wondered how best to answer. Was this mere curiosity, or had the man had something to do with this? It was possible she supposed.

Fortunately her husband handled the matter himself.

"No need to worry about that, Serah," Sebastian said, "Hawke and his wife had taken ship before the attack even began. They are no doubt already under sail by now, on their way to their honeymoon."

The portly mage gave them a sly smile.

"So the assassin waited until after Lord Hawke and Lady Aveline were out of the way, wise of him I suppose, but such people do seem to make the best of such opportunities."

Solona glared at the man, as grateful as she was for Tobias' healing spell that did not explain his presence here.

She wanted that answer, now.

"So you were here for the wedding then?" she inquired.

"I'm here on behalf of House Trevelyan of Ostwick," he said, "Bann Aliza had a deal she wished to discuss with you. I was hoping to gain a private audience after the feast but…"

The mage paused.

He glanced up, in fact most of the wedding guests turned to look down Viscount's Way. All eyes were drawn by the sound of many booted feet, that and the clanking of heavy plate.

Solona looked up, not surprised by the sight coming up the way.

Knight Commander Meredith led a company of at least fifty Templars, Knight Captain Cullen at her side, looking as grim as always. The Jackal's face was stern, but her blue eyes were alight with cruel triumph.

The Viscountess almost sighed with disgust.

Only Meredith could take pleasure in this kind of chaos, or rather, the opportunity provided by this chaos.

It would be something she would have to look into in the days to come.

A few of the nobles rose and went to greet her, cries of "Praise the Maker," and "Thank the Maker you have come," could be heard even over the din.

Solona shook her head.

How quickly people turned to the Templars in times of trouble.

The only two in the crowd who did not seem pleased were her and Tobias; both had their reasons to be sure.

"Oh my," the portly mage said, "I believe you have guests, Your Excellency."

Solona glared at Meredith, the Templar woman merely nodded.

After the Qunari attack, Meredith had been denied the hero's welcome she had thought she deserved. Hawke and Solona had robbed her of her victory that day.

Now this had happened, a mage had murdered many nobles tonight, some of their families might blame House Amell, and now here was the Templar order, more than eager to help.

Was it a matter of the Templars simply doing their duty, or something else?

The Viscountess frowned.

She needed to find out…

Soon.


	8. Who Benefits

**Chapter 8: Who Benefits**

Once again, Viscountess Amell summoned her war council. Once again the safety of the keep had been violated and once again she had found herself caught between the mages and Templars of Kirkwall.

It was a situation that Solona was starting to get tired of.

Despite everything she had done to try and aid her people, and deny the Templars unlimited power, this incident had once again proven that the mages in the Gallows were not simply innocent victims in this whole affair.

It had not taken the Templars long to identify the failed assassin. The man had been a member of the libertarian fraternity, one who had spoken often of his support for the Viscountess when she had first revealed her magic.

Meredith had had the man locked down in quarantine after that.

The Knight-Commander claimed that mage had written often to the keep, asking Solona to intervene on his behalf, none of those letters had reached her of course, and over the months that followed the man had become more and more sullen, convinced that the Viscountess had abandoned him, that he had betrayed the cause of their people. He had escaped when the rebel mages assaulted the Gallows using the Viscountess' seal, with his phylactery destroyed no one had known where the mage had gone, the Templars assigned to locate him had only found evidence that he had fled the city.

That information, had now, been proven to be false.

Solona said nothing when she heard the report from the Knight-Commander, what really could she say. She had never seen any of those letters. Bran had been given strict orders never to refuse any kind of missive from the Gallows. The man would never betray her trust in that way, never.

The Jackal tended to disagreed

Meredith assured her that they had been sent; she had runners who would testify before the court that they **had** been sent. The Knight-Commander felt it more likely that someone close to Solona had betrayed her again, that this mysterious someone had chosen to lose the letters, all the better to keep the Viscountess out of the increasing tangled mage issue

Solona frowned as she heard that part, too many of her courtiers and advisors nodded at the Jackal's interpretation of events. Between everything that had happened with her brother, and later with the Qunari, it was not hard to imagine that Solona had simply been misled, it had happened before after all.

She hated to admit it, but she had to applaud the Jackal's latest attack. It made her look weak without technically making her look weak. The Knight-Commander got to play the hero of the hour, while the Viscountess looked out of touch, unable to control her own nobles.

It was no surprise when the court voted to support Meredith's latest action, and why not, the Templars had protected Thedas from the dangers of magic for ages. Why wouldn't they trust her, especially when it was clear that the Viscountess could not keep her own keep secure against magical transgressors?

For the second time magic had been used to try to assassinate the Viscountess, and now…the nobles on the royal court had decided that there would not be a third time. Knight-Commander Meredith had made an offer and they had all readily accepted. The Viscountess had tried to protest, but she had been out voted, unanimously this time. Kirkwall was hers by right of birth, but even that was not enough to stop the court when they decided unanimously on an issue.

No, several of their number had died in the last attack. They were scared. They needed to take steps to defend themselves.

It was their right, Solona knew, but that did not mean that she had to like it. That did not mean that she could not take steps to defend herself. So here they all were; meeting to decide what happened next.

They met in her office in the keep Varric, Sebastian, Bran, Gray, Farris, Bethany, and Naishe. Solona had not bothered to send word to Hawke and Aveline. Let the couple enjoy their honeymoon, what was happening now was not something that was going to be solved quickly or easily.

The Viscountess sat at her desk, while the others took what seating they could, Bethany chose to stand by the window, staring down at the city below, and the sea of lights that still danced around the keep.

The Templars were doing a house by house search, not to mention securing the lower levels of the keep. They moved like an army of ants, sealing off any possible escape route in their search for how this latest assassin had gained entrance here.

Nothing else would be getting into the keep, the Jackal had promised that, but there was another side to that coin as well.

The Viscountess sighed.

Nothing would be getting out either, that was for certain. The keep was going to be secure. The Viscountess and her family were going to be secure.

The Templars would make sure of that.

The Viscountess would be a prisoner in her own keep.

From this point forward, until the current crisis had passed, a full garrison of Templars would be assigned to the Viscount's Keep. These brave men and women would make sure that no blood mage or abomination once again violated these halls. The Templars would also take a more active hand in policing Hightown. New guard rotation would be established. Knight-Captain Cullen would see to those personally. If there were not enough city guards to fulfil these new patrols, Templars would fill in so that security would be maintained. In addition, a knight-lieutenant would be present at every meeting of the royal court, to make sure that no Maleficarum would ever again threaten the lives of any noble in Kirkwall.

Oh how Meredith had smiled when she informed Solona of that, a smile that had only widened when the announcement was met with thunderous applause from the rest of her court.

Oh how Solona wished that she could make the nobles understand! This was not safety, it was tyranny. One word from Meredith and the Templars would be able to seal the keep and murder the royal family! Kirkwall would no longer be governed from Hightown; it would be governed from the Knight-Commander's office in the Gallows.

As for the mages themselves, Meredith promised to bring new security measures before the Grand Cleric before the week was out. The Circle would be in lock down, at least until that the Jackal was absolutely sure that the attacker had no more accomplices among the circle of magi.

Orsino would no doubt protest, Solona did not doubt that, but given how the nobles were feeling right now, his pleas would likely fall on deaf ears. Anyone who lost a friend or family member tonight would no doubt support Meredith's stance on what needed to be done.

Every noble in Kirkwall had seen just how dangerous magic could be tonight.

Maybe that… had been the whole point.

Solona looked out among the faces of her advisors. Bran was quieter than normal, not that she blamed him. He no doubt knew what having all these Templars in the keep would mean. Sebastian flexed his fingers nervously, no doubt wishing that he still had a bow in his hand. Alas, this was not a problem that they could fix simply by shooting an arrow at it. No, this would call for something much more subtle.

Varric said nothing, no doubt waiting to hear what she wanted to do before he suggested some plan of action of his own. Varric had served her loyally as her Hand, and was not afraid to make suggestions, but first he wanted to hear what she had to say.

He was here to advise after all, not to take over.

Bethany remained as cold as winter's snow. She had said nothing since being summoned here, and had moved even less since she had heard the news about the new Templar garrison in the keep.

No doubt the girl was worried about what this would mean, Solona did not blame her.

To be honest, she was worried too.

Naishe had stood with her through the darkest days of her exile from Kirkwall, the former pirate queen had always stood by with an eager listening ear, and she was not afraid to let the Viscountess know when she was doing something stupid.

She had proved that less than an hour ago.

Before coming to the war council, Solona had gone up to the nursery to check on the children. To be honest, she had been terrified about what she was going to find, her babies whimpering in fear, and she without anything to say that might comfort them.

What could she say to the poor dears?

How could she explain what had happened down in the ballroom?

She did not have the slightest idea.

She resolved herself to at least try; she took a deep breath and mustered her courage, preparing to say whatever she could to help her little ones not have nightmares.

What she found instead was something quite different.

Gray stood guard inside the door, while Naishe stood near the window, a slightly amused smirk on her face.

Solona quirked her mouth, first in surprise, then in amusement...

…Well, she thought, I never would have tried this.

The children were giggling, entranced by what they saw before them. Brunt, Gray's large Mabari warhound lay between them flat on his back, his large pink tongue lolling out of his mouth in a look of pure contentment, one hind leg in the air kicking gently against nothing.

The children were petting him, eager to be close enough to rub the warhounds belly. Occasionally Naishe had to remind them to be gentle and not to push or fight.

After all, there was plenty of Brunt to go around.

The large dog cocked his head when he heard the Viscountess enter, but did not try to rise. Perrin was petting under his chin while Angie and Livia gave his belly a good hard scratch.

The hound groaned in pleasure, which only seemed to please the children more.

"Puppy!" Perrin exclaimed.

"Doggie!" Livia giggled.

"Beeeeg Doggie," Angie cooed, "Good Doggie!"

Brunt merely snuffled and looked adoringly up at his master.

Graydon Stark chuckled.

"Don't look at me like that," he warned his friend, "It is not like I never pet you when you want it."

The dog snorted and continued to enjoy the children's attention.

The children giggled, still enjoying petting their large furry new friend. They were so enthralled they had not even noticed her yet. She was grateful for that distraction.

If they had to focus on anything tonight, let it be that.

Solona smiled, hearing her children laugh was the first good thing she had experience since the attack.

She turned to Naishe.

"Thank you," she murmured, careful not to disturb the children.

"Don't thank me, Kadan," the woman smirked, "It was Gray that suggested it. Perhaps you should thank him."

Solona looked up, the Fereldan knight shifted uncomfortable under her regard.

The Viscountess felt her muscles tense.

Gray had not hesitated when her children had been attacked. She did not doubt that had he needed to leap into the fray and die to protect them, he very well might have, but still…still…

After that business with Bethany, after what he had done.

How could she just let him back in like all was forgiven.

The Knight bowed his head, no doubt waited for her to ask him to leave.

Behind them, Naishe rolled her eyes.

"Parshaara," she spat, "How long will this continue!"

She marched up between them, glaring at them both.

"Gray is loyal to you Kadan," she said first to Solona, 'He made an error in judgment, trying to protect you; he should not continue to be punished for that!

She then turned to the knight.

"You knew what you were doing would not please Solona, but you did it anyway. You had good intentions but that was not enough."

She shook her head.

"We were all rebels once," she reminded them, "We fought against the Death's Hand together! Is one moment of misjudgment enough to tear those bonds apart! Are we so weak that we can't let go of our mistakes?"

Solona looked away; she wanted to tell Naishe that she did not understand that this was about more than stupid wounded pride…

The Viscountess bit her lower lip.

Everything was going to change, she knew that. The Templars would no doubt be looking for any leverage to divide House Amell. Gray was one of her most loyal soldiers, he had fought for her many times, almost died to protect those she loved…

Solona sighed.

She might have been able to forgive him in time, but time was no longer a luxury that she had. Not with the Templars breathing down her neck.

She would need Gray in the coming weeks, not just his advice, but possibly his sword arm as well.

She no longer had the luxury of pride.

The Knight refused to meet her eyes, his head lowered in shame.

Solona took a deep breath.

She needed to do this.

"The Templars have made a move," she informed him, "I'll need your advice in the coming days. Do you think that we can do that? Do you think we can work together…as we once did?"

Gray looked up at her, for the first time since he had rode into her camp to tell her about the massacre of crowns, he looked a bit like his old self.

Here was the Graydon Stark she remembered.

Here was the Shield of Kirkwall.

The knight stood at attention.

"What…whatever you need, Your Grace," he said solemnly.

Solona nodded, pleased both with his answer, and her decision to accept it.

It would take time, she realized, but eventually, they would move past this.

They would have to, if they were to survive what was to come.

After a brief reunion with her little ones, Solona, Gray, and Naishe made their way down to the Viscount's office, Brunt stayed behind to keep the children calm, watched closely by her handmaiden Orana, by now Bran should have assembled the others…

The Viscountess frowned deeply.

There was much they needed to talk about.

IOI

"Is there no way around this Your Highnessness?"

Solona sighed heavily; she had been hoping that the dwarf might have had at least some idea on that front. Seeing that he didn't made her feel even more depressed.

"There is little I can do right now," she confessed, "The royal court is scared, and I for one, don't blame them."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed.

"I will speak with Elthina; surely the Grand Cleric can do something to calm down the nobles. Surely, there is something more than allowing the Templars to occupy the keep."

"The royal court is scared, Your Lordship," Seneschal Bran reminded him, "this latest attack by the mages…"

"How do we even know that the mages were behind this?" Gray asked, "The way I see it, they had nothing to gain, and everything to lose. If her Grace died, the Knight-Commander would stand unopposed, if she didn't, then the Templars had enough fear to make sure the Knight-Commander got everything she wanted, everything."

Varric gave Gray and arched look.

"That sounds a great deal like an accusation Dog-Boy?"

"Not an accusation," he responded, "An observation, who had more to gain by this attack? Who profited the most from it?"

"Who indeed," Bethany snorted, not even bothering to turn and face the others.

Solona turned to her.

"You have another idea cousin?"

"Yes," she said, "The most obvious one,"

She turned to the others, her eyes cold and dangerous.

"Daylen was behind this attack. He should be executed for it."

Solona sighed; she had expected this of course.

"Daylen will be questioned cousin, but personally, I don't think he had anything to do with this."

Bethany turned to her, those cold eyes burned into the Viscountess.

"Why do you continue to defend him, even after this?"

"He has as much to lose as we do if the Templars take over the keep."

And besides, Gray added, "Daylen Amell has had no chance to confer with anyone. Guards are always around him, the nobles he confers information with are all hardened supporters of House Amell…"

"How can we be certain of that," Bethany added, "How do we know that we don't have dozens of traitors in our midst?"

Solona sighed.

She knew how Bethany felt about Daylen, and she did not blame her. Her brother had twisted Bethany's husband into something foul, and then forced him to attack his own wife. After that, anyone would be hard pressed not to hold him responsible for everything that had happened, but as Solona had said before.

This made no sense. Daylen was a prisoner, and even if he wasn't, having Meredith's soldiers crawling all over the keep would not aid him.

Was Daylen a suspect sure, but not the most likely one? Meredith had had more to gain than anyone after these attacks, and all they to suggest that she wasn't, was her word.

That…was not enough.

Solona sighed and bowed her head.

"Daylen will be questioned cousin. I promise you that, but in the meantime, we need to decide how best to prepare for the problem at hand, namely a full garrison of Templars living just below where the children sleep."

She once again met Bethany's cold gaze with hers.

"The safety of this family must come first. Then…and only then…will we be able to deal with our enemies."

Bethany did not respond right away, she held Solona's gaze, daring her to back down first, to look away.

Solona did not flinch, not in this…

…Never in this.

Finally, Bethany sighed.

"As you wish cousin," she said bowing her head subserviently.

"As you wish."

IOI

Sunrise came slowly to the city of chains.

The jubilant air of yesterday's wedding had been replaced with a sense of menace, like a small ember about to explode into an inferno.

Tension was everywhere, and so were the Templars, patrolling the streets already, taking up the banner that Meredith had claimed for her own.

In the Bradley estate, Bethany sat at the desk in her office, her eyes were closed, her staff rested across her lap, pulsing with dark energy as the young mage meditated.

She sighed deeply, letting anger in, and holding in her heart, knowing full well what would need to happen in the coming days.

Again Cousin Lona had let her down.

Again her husband's murderer had gone unpunished.

Soon, it would be necessary to take matters into her own hands.

Soon…she would need to deal with Daylen, once and for all.

She needed to be careful. Her cousin was already angry about that business in the Vimmarks, fortunately Bethany would not have to act alone in the coming days.

The mage smiled slightly.

She had found new allies to aid her. Allies that knew Daylen very well…

…and they were more than eager to see him die screaming.

The sound of footsteps in the hall, interrupted her meditation, but she was not concerned, these guests were expected. The servants that worked here would say nothing, either their souls belonged to her now, or they were currently under a very strong sleep spell.

None would tell Solona of her guests this fine morn.

The three creatures hissed as they ambled into her study, their crude weapons and armor stood out strangely against the trapping of wealth that she now cloaked herself with.

The leader of the foul things grinned with rotted teeth; he might have been an elf once. His ears were certainly long enough, now…he was Faithless, one of the foul creatures created by Neria Surana to serve Death's Hand.

Once they had served her cousin.

Now, they served her.

"What orders do you have for us this day, Lady Threnhold?" the lead beast wheezed.

"What do you command?"

Bethany gave him a cruel grin, a grin that even her own mother or brother would not have recognized.

This was not the girl they had known back in Ferelden.

This…was something else.

"Gather your soldiers," she purred.

"We have work to do."

**A/N: I'm **_**back!**_** Hope your all having a happy Fourth of July! Next chapter we catch up with Death's Hand and what he has been up to outside the keep! Are you confused yet, good, but don't worry all will be explained in time and even a few more surprises will be popping up soon, until next time dear readers!**

**DG**


	9. The Monster who was Viscount

**Chapter 9: The Monster who was Viscount**

_Once upon a time, there was a boy named Daylen Amell. He was smart, brave, and loved by all. He was born to Aristide Amell, the Viscount, the Lion of Kirkwall, the man who saved Kirkwall from the Threnhold regime, and lighten the city of chains' darkest hour._

_Coming from such a bloodline, how could such a boy be anything but great?_

_After his father took the throne, he would often sit in his study with his young son near him. Sometimes Daylen would sit on his father's lap and they would talk, talk about all the great things the boy was in store for. How that one day he would sit on the throne, and on that day, he, would make Kirkwall the envy of the world._

_Daylen had loved those stories, he had loved his father. Father had known what everyone should have known._

_To rule was not simply Daylen's birthright…_

_It was…his __**destiny**__._

_Years passed, and the boy continued to learn at his father's feet, learn the secrets and skills that he would need when the day came that he would take the throne, with time and love all those secrets would have been his, alas time has no compassion for love or understanding of destiny._

_Aristide Amell died. He died leaving his son still a boy, and unable to fulfill his destiny. The throne that was his duty and birthright passed to the boy's older sister, a girl who spent all her time abroad._

_What did she know of Kirkwall?_

_What did she know of destiny?_

_The boy __**was**__ angry, but he bided his time, this was a setback, nothing more. In the grand scheme of things, his sister was nothing, a steward watching over his throne until he came of age._

_Solona understood that, he was sure of it. Maker knows, she had told him several times that she had not even wanted the throne._

_It was only a matter of time until she gave him what was his by right._

_So Daylen was patient, he served his sister, as he grew older he became her hand, her justice. He had her love and her respect. The people began to see the wonder that he was, the greatness in his blood. During those years he found the life he wanted. A bride who loved him, a father in law who supported him, allies who saw the world he would make and wanted to be a part of it._

_Everything had been perfect; everything had been going according to plan._

_Then…his sister got greedy…_

_Then…everything changed._

_Solona began to see herself as more than just his steward; she wanted the throne for herself. The in adept girl married a known noble troublemaker and plotted with him to steal Daylen's legacy. _

_She wanted…no dared…she __**dared **__to try and produce heirs, to block him from what was his by right._

_The gall of his sister, the complete and utter gall!_

_Daylen was forced to grow stronger, darker. He made alliances to fight this darkness growing within his own family. He removed her troublemaker husband, and took steps to show the world just how unworthy his sister truly was…_

_In the end, the plan worked, but not without some casualties, a faithless noble, a weak fool, who should have known better, maimed Daylen, cutting off his hand. Then his sister, no longer able to hide her ambition and cowardice, murdered their mother in a fit of rage before fleeing the city that she had failed and betrayed._

_It was with a heavy heart that Daylen Amell took the throne. He began his grand plans, to make Kirkwall a paradise, and from there, make all the Free Marches a paradise. Then, when everything seemed perfect, he received even more good news._

_The line of lions would not end with him, his wife was with child._

_He was going to be father!_

_In a few short months, he had come to realize all his dreams, but it was then that those dreams turned sour._

_It was then that the world turned into a nightmare._

_It began with his faithless cousin; Garrett Hawke began plotting against him. Daylen, being merciful, spared the man and his friends confident that one day, they would see the light. Then his own advisors began to turn against him. He trusted Mother Petrice to keep the faithful in line._

_She failed in that endeavor._

_He honored his cousin Bethany by making her husband his new hand. He even shared his own greatness; through magic he made the man a direct part of his Viscount. It was an honor that none would deny, if they understood just what Daylen had been offering._

_Slowly, the faithless ungrateful citizens of Kirkwall began to eat away at what he had given them. They did not understand what he was doing. They did not understand how much he had sacrificed to give them the paradise he felt they deserved._

_They even started calling him a name, a name that was meant to be an insult, but that he embraced, as proof of his strength and power._

_Death's Hand._

_Why should he see that name as an insult? Death, like justice, was impartial and fair. It was also a part of life as Viscount __**he**__ was a part of life._

_He intended to make them all understand that._

_He realized that he needed to be a warrior. He needed to fight to hold onto what his father had built. He once again turned to dark magic to regain what had been stolen from him. His wife's handmaiden and confidant restored the hand the fool Dumar had taken from him. It was no longer just a hand, it was powerful, and clawed, claws that could rend a man in half with barely and single swipe. An attempt to remove it resulted in Daylen gaining more and more armored plates running up his arm. These plates seeped toxins, and were harder than dragon scales. They shielded him well, preparing him for the coming battle. He had been pleased with their creation._

_Once again he was whole, and just in time too…_

_It seemed that his sister's ambition knew no bounds._

_She returned to Kirkwall, with a foreign army at her back, and alliance of Tevinters and Starkhaveners. They called him usurper, tyrant, and many other unflattering insults. They did not understand…_

_They were the usurpers. He was the one true ruler of Kirkwall!_

_How dare they all stand in the way of his destiny!_

_In the end, the evil that opposed him turned out to be too strong. His wife and unborn child were murdered. His Father in law was hanged as a traitor, and as for Daylen himself…_

_His sister kept him caged, a pet for her own amusement. Oh how she had loved to come down to his cell and lord over the fact that she had beaten him._

_He had been beaten yes, but he remained unbroken._

_It took some time, but eventually he found a way to escape the dungeon. He had even found a way to restore his wife's soul, to bring it back to the mortal plane. The chantry would have called such an endeavor unnatural, but what did they know?_

_They chose to worship a god who ignored their pleas, how smart could they truly be?_

_For a time Daylen fought to regain his throne, and again he was swarted at every turn by traitors and fools that suffered from an extreme lack of vision. Slowly his victories began to degrade…_

_The war was lost, he was no fool. He knew it as soon as it became apparent._

_Daylen Amell did not shy away from harsh truths._

_The war was a lost cause, he knew that, but that did not mean that the fight was over._

_He could not oppose his sister directly, but that was alright._

_Daylen had always done his best work striking from the shadows._

_All that remained was to do something unexpected, something…unbelievable._

_He surrendered._

_Now he sat in a prison room in the highest tower of the Viscount's Keep, a threat to no one. _

_He had become nothing._

_He was nothing._

_At least, that is what Solona thought._

_The truth was much more complicated…_

…_And far more…_

…_amusing._

IOI

Death's Hand stood alone in his newest lair. He was surrounded by shadows and the flickering glow of glow crystals and several small fires.

The black scales running up his arm and down his chest flickered in the dim light. Each spike dripped with foul toxins.

He flexed his clawed fingers, enjoying the sensation of the poison flowing to their tips. Slowly, but surely, his body was being encased in hard organic armor, one day he would be completely sealed within it, immune to even the sharpest blade.

On that day, he would be invincible, let any enemy dare stand against him then.

Of course, that would be for another day, now all that mattered was his latest plan, and the pawns he trusted to carry it out.

His hands were crossed behind his back as he stared out into the darkness. Below he could hear the cries of the Faithless, his soldiers given new life and new purpose by the will and magic of his lover Neria Surana.

Death's Hand smirked.

Of all of his remaining servants, Neria remained the most useful. When he had first conceived this new plan, she had been on the verge of betraying him, broken hearted over his rejection of her., angry that he had chosen to spend his time with the creature born of his wife's restored soul.

His first task had been to make her believe the error in that. Despite what she might have thought, he still needed her aid, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get it.

It had not been difficult in the end.

Once she had prepared the first stage of his plan she had left to prepare the second. In Tevinter she would find the tools they would need to proceed to the next step, while at the same time muster more allies to his cause.

The former Viscount chuckled.

It had been almost too easy.

Despite her power, Neria remained the same scared girl that Gaston Poole had rescued from the Alienage so many years ago. Back then, all she had needed was to feel loved, validated…

Death's Hand was more than willing to give her that. He made her believe that first and foremost, she had a place in his heart.

It was a useful deception to be sure. What Neria did not understand, what no one understood, was that his heart had died along with his wife and unborn child.

It was impossible for anyone to hold a place in his heart.

He no longer had one, it was better that way.

Safer.

There was a knock on the hard stone door.

He pursed his lips; few here would dare intrude on his solitude. He had been quite clear that he was not to be disturbed.

Still…he doubted that his allies would not violate his sanctuary foolishly.

They must have a very good reason.

He decided to find out what that was.

"Enter," he said with a sigh.

The door creaked open loudly. The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears.

The former Viscount turned. His hard blue eyes met those of his servants.

"Report," he growled.

As always, they spoke up quickly, not wishing to risk his ire, or his wrath.

He was the son of the lion after all.

It was never a good idea to keep a lion waiting.

IOI

The three who had disturbed his peace were well known to him. If everything went as planned, these would be the architects of Kirkwall's destruction. They shared his desire for justice, for power.

None of these would dare cross him, if they did, they would lose all they had fought for as well.

The first was a powerfully build human warrior in light mail, and a cold faceless helm for a visage.

Quill was his arm of vengeance, trained by the Antivan Crows; the man had killed many times in Death's Hand's service. He asked little in exchange for this service, just the destruction of Kirkwall, the city that had ruined his life.

The former Viscount did not intend to disappoint.

The second was one of his Faithless, those servants that had been twisted by Neria Surana's blood magic. They could no longer be called human or elven, so complete had been their transformation. They looked like monsters, monsters born to terrify and slay his enemies.

Death's Hand approved of such transformations.

The Faithless retained little of what they had been before, but what did remain was the highest caliber possible. They were smart, cruel, and completely loyal to him, and why not?

Neria had altered them to one purpose, and one purpose alone.

They were his warriors, his protectors.

Unlike the others in Kirkwall, they would never abandon him.

Neria had made them that way.

This Faithless spent a great deal of time in Darktown, the black tunnels that ran beneath Kirkwall. It had recently approached Death's Hand's cousin Bethany about an alliance. The Faithless were willing to work for her, or so they made his cousin believe.

He almost smirked at the mere thought of it.

Bethany had found her own darkness; it had made her strong and dangerous. He was almost tempted to let her live, to let her serve in his new order.

Almost.

The third had once been a mage, a mage that had escaped from the circle. He had been an elf before Neria had gotten a hold of him, now he was as misshapen as any of the Faithless; only his pointed ears marked the origin that he had once possessed.

Neria had been a little nervous about making a Faithless mage. She feared that the magic within would make the creature unstable, uncontrollable.

In this, at least, he was grateful she was wrong.

He now had a coven of ten faithless mages in his service. Before she had left, Neria had taught the first of them how to make more of their kind, to twist the flesh and minds of enemies and allies alike and make them into the creatures that Death's Hand would need to bring death to fair Kirkwall.

Each mage could create about ten new Faithless every two to three weeks, with all ten working night and day, it would be only matter of time until he had the army he needed to overthrow his usurping sister, but not all at once, oh no.

He smiled cruelly.

Solona would suffer first. The mages and Templars were already giving her fits, but that was not enough. He needed to do **more!** He would take away everything that she had loved. He would do to her, what she had done to him. She would be alone, broken and abandoned, and unlike him.

She would not have the power to get back up.

He turned to the mage.

"I want my troops armed and ready to march before next summer begins.

The Faithless simpered like a whipped cur.

"Milord, we are doing our best, but to have everything ready by then…it will be difficult, we have only just secured this place. If we open the old mines again we might be able to do what you say, but the danger…."

Death's Hand waved his hand dismissively.

"Do what you need to do, get the forges running again. If you need dwarven labor do not be afraid to acquire it. I want everything ready by next year."

Again the mage simpered, his twisted ears lowered slightly.

Death's Hand advanced on him, his claws extending to their full length.

He got up in the creature's face.

"I trust that will not be a problem?"

The Faithless swallowed hard.

"No…n…no problem, milord."

Death's Hand smirked.

"Excellent."

He turned to Quill.

"How is the Ostwick operation going?"

The warrior snorted.

"The alliance between the Ostwick and their Orlesian guests is degrading; a few more…subtle pushes and we should see a return on our investment in the city."

"Outstanding," Death's Hand smirked.

Baron Lafaille, the Orlesian fop who thought Kirkwall was his by right had long been an annoyance to Death's Hand, he looked forward to seeing the man…neutralized.

This latest scheme would ensure that, provided Solona did not find out, which brought him back to his first guest.

He turned to the first Faithless, and smiled graciously.

"What of my Cousin Bethany? Is she moving where I need her to move?"

The creature smiled with badly rotted teeth.

"She knows that Daylen Amell is locked in the keep," the creature purred, "All she sees is her desire to see him dead, and to punish her cousin for sparing him."

The Faithless cackled.

"She has not told this one everything, but it is clear that she wishes to hurt the Solona, to show her what real power is. This…distraction will give my lord the time he requires; soon…we will be ready."

Death's Hand nodded, pleased with what he was hearing.

It was truly a shame that Bethany could not be convinced to ally with him willingly, oh well.

She would just have to die with the others when the time came.

A pity.

'Give my cousin whatever she needs," he said, "She will keep my sister nice and distracted until I'm ready to make my move, and by then…it will be too late."

The creature cackled.

"As you command, milord," he said bowing deeply.

"We die for Death's Hand."

The former Viscount smiled.

_Yes, yes you do,_ he thought.

He glanced up at Quill, the warrior's eyes had narrowed in frustration, but he said nothing.

Not that the warrior needed to, his lord knew what he wanted.

"Be patient, my silent knight," he purred, "Kirkwall will burn, you have my word on that."

The warrior bowed his head, but still said nothing, but Death's Hand did not mind.

That is what he liked the most about Quill.

_He preferred to let his actions speak for him._

Death's Hand respected that.

The three left his chambers; Quill was off to Ostwick, while the two Faithless tended to their business.

The former Viscount returned to the window, he could hear the hammers down below, smell the steam from the forges, and the cries of newborn monsters, emerging from the crèche.

He smiled grandly.

He found himself thinking of Daylen Amell, the poor defeated Daylen Amell rotting in the tower in Kirkwall. The poor fool was living on borrowed time; it was not take long for Cousin Bethany to find a way to get to him, to make him pay for what she saw as crimes against her love and family.

The former Viscount chuckled.

Bethany would kill Daylen, it was only a matter of time, there was only one problem.

The man in the tower was **not** really Daylen Amell, he might have all the memories, and the face, but that did not change the truth.

Daylen Amell was not really Daylen Amell.

Daylen Amell was gone. He had evolved.

Now only Death's Hand remained, and Death's Hand was very much alive, and active.

He laughed at the whole situation.

When Cousin Bethany did finally kill the pawn he and Neria had sent, it would give him the one thing he had never had before, anonymity.

No one feared the wrath of a dead man, but in this case, there was much to be feared.

Bethany would hurt Solona, weaken her, and when the time was right, he would emerge from the shadows, arise from the darkness like a god reborn.

He would have the power that had been stolen from him.

He would have justice, and that was just the beginning.

Soon all would learn the truth

Death's Hand was more than just a man.

He was more than simply mortal.

He was death itself, and soon death would call upon the city of chains.

He just needed to be patient a while longer.

Soon he would be ready.

Soon he would be able to return.

Patience, that was what, was important.

He tried to remember that.

It was not yet time, but soon.

He smiled wickedly.

Soon.


	10. Love and Desire

**Chapter 10: Love and Desire**

"It is bad, isn't it?"

Leandra Hawke sighed and looked at Daylen. She was likely the only one in their family who still looked upon him with love. He had made mistakes, horrible mistakes, but now…now…he was trying to make up for them. She understood what that was like, to be the pariah of the family; she had been one herself when she had eloped thirty years ago.

If anyone understood him, it was her.

It had been a long time since she had gotten the chance to visit him, for the longest time Solona had blocked every attempt, denied every request, but since his imprisonment, her brother had been a model prisoner, never offered the guards any problem. When he was needed to provide information he came downstairs without complaint, and returned just as quickly.

In short, he had proven that he was not actively trying to be a problem, and with the keep in the state it was in now.

It had problems enough already.

The young lord sat on his bed, while Leandra sat at his desk. The guards felt it better that she not get too close, just because he had tried nothing before this did not mean that he might not try something now. It was a delicate balance that he walked, a thin line between being a prisoner and simply being forbidden from leaving his room unsupervised.

_So far, he had managed to walk it well… _

…_So far._

"It isn't good," Leandra admitted, "We have Templars in every corner of the keep now. They have patrols marching in and out, night and day. One of the Knight-Lieutenants has even moved into the guard captain's office, at least, until Aveline returns from her honeymoon.

Daylen frowned.

It was one thing for the Templars to offer their support, it was quite another to have a full garrison occupying the Viscount's keep. Such a thing had not happened in years, not since the fall of the Threnhold regime.

Father would never have tolerated such a thing, but at the same time, Father was no mage. He had never given the Templars any reason to doubt him, if he had…

The nobles would have never allowed him to assume the throne in the first place. Back then they had been strong enough to resist Knight-Commander Meredith's desires.

Under Solona, that was obviously no longer true.

Now…they were surrounded by Templars, and no one but the Viscountess was speaking up against it. According to Leandra, the court approved of the extra security, it made them feel safe.

The fallen lord shook his head.

_It was only a matter of time until that changed._

Right now the Templars were not flexing their authority, they were letting business in the keep proceed as usual, but as soon as the Templars decided to start taking steps, the nobles would complain, but by then it would be too late, the Order would be too entrenched in the keep.

After that, there would be no getting them out, not without chantry intervention.

Which, in Daylen's mind, seemed unlikely, Meredith had the excuse and the power now.

It was unlikely that she would give it up.

"Has my sister gone to the Grand Cleric," he asked, "Surely she can do something about this?"

"Sebastian is meeting with her now, with luck she will rule on our side, but even if she does it is unlikely the Templar presence here will end anytime soon."

Leandra shook her head.

"There are too many Templars in the city now, the Gallows would not hold them all. Knight Commander Meredith requested reinforcements and she got them, she has enough Templars to not only hold the Gallows, but the keep as well."

Daylen's eyes narrowed.

_He did not like the sound of this, any of it._

"How did the Knight-Commander manage that?"

"Apparently she sent word to the Lord Seeker directly. The Seekers have spoken with the Divine and convinced her of the need of having addition troops here. Between the attack on the Gallows and two assassination attempts on your sister, the chantry feels that tighter security is needed."

The woman shook her head.

"Most of the Templars here now are from Orlais, a few came from Starkhaven and Ostwick, but the bulk of them were handpicked for this duty. Men and women that the Knight-Commander assures us can keep the circle under control."

Right, Daylen thought.

But who will keep them under control?

"What about the First Enchanter," he added, "What does the circle have to say?"

"The Circle is currently under lockdown while the Knight-Commander roots out any conspirators the assassin might have had. The mages are confined to quarters until further notice."

Daylen nodded.

It seemed that the Knight-Commander had thought of everything, and now everything going her way. The circle fully under her heel, and now minders in the Keep to stop the nobles from raising any stink about it.

It was an impressive show of force, even during his darkest days he had not been able to manage so much, but with the Qunari out of the city, and the mages in lockdown.

Meredith now had everything she wanted.

The next move was Solona's, but it needed to be made cautiously, even a whisper of rebellion might be enough to set the Templars off…

Then where would they be?

They heard the sound of heavy footsteps and voices in the hallway. No doubt a Templar patrol questioning what was going on.

Daylen glared at the door.

He was surprised that Meredith had not requested that he be moved to the dungeon. That she had not tried to link him to all this madness. It would have further weakened his sister, having her authority so clearly questioned.

Of course, him being locked up here meant that she could blame something else on him later. It was something he would do, if he was in the Knight-Commander's shoes. For years she had sought away to erode House Amell's power, a goal she had worked harder towards since finding out that Solona was a mage.

If Meredith got anything on Solona, she would strike without mercy. House Amell would be torn down, root and stem. She had done it before, to the Threnholds.

He had no doubt that she would do it to the Amells.

Daylen rapped his fingers lightly on the mattress of his bed, thinking.

What he had done in the past, he regretted it. He had been out of control a spoiled child lashing out at those who loved him. He…they…

He shook his head.

_There must be something that I can do?_

_There must be some way that I can help?_

One thing had not changed, he loved his family, and wanted it to flourish, everything he had done in the past had been to secure that, at least that is what he told himself.

Leandra gave him a worried look.

"Are you all right dear?"

He sighed heavily.

No, he thought.

Not really.

He had told no one, but…since coming back to the keep, he…he had had nightmares every night. Strange nightmares that he did not understand, he saw himself in those dreams, standing over him, while Quill held him down. He felt the blade severing his hand, and Neria's blood magic washing over him.

Those dreams often woke him from a sound sleep. He awoke confused, often not remembering where he was for a few moments.

Sometimes, he did not even remember who he was.

Frightening dreams to be sure, and once he was awake, truly awake, that fog went away and he remembered everything, but there were times…times that he was afraid.

Afraid that the fog wouldn't pass, that he would wake up, and not remember who he was anymore.

That he…he…

He swallowed hard.

That he would wake up not knowing who he was anymore!

That he was really someone else.

He said none of this to Leandra; his dear cousin had enough on her plate right now.

No, he would survive this. He was an Amell after all.

Amells did not fear simple dreams.

"It is nothing," he said, "Just…I just had a rough night."

She nodded, and let it pass.

He looked down at his one hand, flexing the fingers, trying to think.

Once upon a time, he had had this entire city dancing to his tune.

Why could he not think of something that could help them now?

Leandra gave him that motherly smile of hers, one that she had no doubt used on her own children many times.

He was grateful for that smile.

It was nice to feel loved again, loved for the right reasons. Leandra wanted nothing from him, she never had.

She just wanted him to try and be happy.

He reached out and touched her hand.

He wished that was still possible, for her sake if nothing else.

He hated the fact that he had disappointed her.

"I'll try to think of something," he promised, "If I do, please bring it to my sister. She may be able to…"

"I will dear, I promise. I can…"

There was a loud knock on the door.

Daylen sighed heavily.

It seemed that there time was once again up.

_Damn._

"I must be going, dear," she said turning towards the door, "But I promise I…I…ca…"

Leandra paused; her hand went to her head. She started to sway and…

"Oh."

She started to fall.

Daylen was on his feet in seconds. He caught her.

"Cousin," he gasped, "Cousin are you alright!?"

"Um…yes…I…oh…oh my."

He helped her to the bed; she sat there a moment shaking her head.

"I…oh…oh my, I felt so dizzy, I…"

The guards burst into the room.

"BACK AWAY DEATH'S HAND," their leader growled, two Templars also began to enter.

Daylen backed away quickly holding his arms in the air, but part of him seethed at their interruption. Leandra needed him, she…

"I'm fine," Leandra said shaking her head.

"Milady?" the guard said.

"I said I'm fine," she repeated, "I tripped, Daylen caught me, he did nothing I assure you, let him be."

She gave the guard a hard look.

"_**Please**__, let him be."_

The guards relaxed but they did not take their eyes off him. Daylen could care less. He was worried about Leandra.

_What in Andraste's name had just happened?_

Leandra stood and smiled at him.

"I'm fine dear, really," she promised, "I'll be back soon, I promise."

Daylen watched her go, he seemed calm, but his heart pounded in his chest.

_What had just happened?_

_Was…was something wrong with Leandra?_

Worry ate at him, making him hate this room, and Solona for forcing him to remain here. What he had done had not taken away what he felt for his family. He still cared damn it!

He glared at the door.

He knew Solona had her own problems, but family should still come first.

If she was neglecting her family.

It isn't her fault, his conscience reminded him. You remember what leading this city is like, and you did not have a garrison of Templars breathing down your neck.

Daylen sighed.

Yes, he did know, and that is what bothered him.

If something was wrong with Lady Leandra, it was yet another distraction, another log of wood on House Amell's funeral pyre.

He frowned.

Too many logs had been added to that fire lately. They likely could not afford many more.

One thing was for sure.

Something was definitely going on.

IOI

While Leandra visited with Daylen. Sebastian Vale, Lord Consort to the Viscountess met with Grand Cleric Elthina in the chantry, with so much going on, he had hoped that his old mentor would help him, that she would finally make a stand when it came to the virtual army of Templars that had now come to "defend" their great city.

Elthina listened, as she always had, but as always she preferred to stay out of such matters. The Divine herself had allowed Meredith to bring in reinforcements.

The Grand Cleric advised him to have faith. That with the Maker's aid, they would all be able to work through this.

It was with this advice in mind that the Lord Consort left the Chantry. He tried, tried to keep his temper in check, tried to remind himself that the Templars served the chantry for the good of all.

He shook his head.

Some days were easier than others, to keep that in mind.

Sebastian clenched his fists in impotent rage.

He feared that he had failed his wife, yet again.

It was not an easy thing, being married to such a powerful woman. He loved Solona, and he loved their children, but sometimes, just sometimes…

He felt like he was nothing. That no matter what he did, his wife would always do better.

That she…did not need his protection at all.

He had never been one of those men, one that had to save the damsel in distress. He liked strong women, he always had…

Then why did he feel so useless right now?

He had made many friends within chantry; he had thought that at least one of them would aid his family in convincing Meredith to remove these reinforcements. If the Grand Cleric had supported them, then the nobles would have rallied around them. Even Knight Commander Meredith would not be able to deny that much pressure.

Sebastian sighed heavily.

He had failed again, which meant that it was up to his wife to save them all…again.

The Lord Consort cursed under his breath.

How he hated that.

"Hello Sebastian."

He looked up and smiled.

"Lady Bethany," he said with a gallant bow, pushing back all his dark thoughts.

It did not matter how he felt right now, he needed to show strength. Even among his own family.

He needed to be strong.

…For them.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he said with a smile.

She laughed lightly.

"Actually, I was about to ask you the same thing. You look troubled, Milord."

She gave him a gentle smile.

"Is there anything that I can do?"

Sebastian shook his head, part of him wanted to tell her the truth. There had been a time when Bethany and his wife had been as thick as thieves. Though those days were gone, he still saw her as a valued member of this family.

Solona had told him what she had done in the Vimmarks, a horrible thing to be sure, but at the same time she had done it with the best of intentions, and since that time she had done nothing to harm either her family or the crown.

Sebastian believed in redemption, and the value of forgiveness.

Bethany Bradley was no less deserving of such mercy than he.

"I had hoped to convince the Grand Cleric to intervene on our behalf. I understand the need for protection, but a full garrison of Templars in the keep…"

He shook his head.

"It seems too extreme if you ask me."

Her smile widened slightly.

"Brave words," she said

"Perhaps," agreed, "But true words, someone needs to say them."

She lowered her head, she sniffled. Her hand went to her eyes.

He gave her a worried look.

"Milady?"

She sniffled again.

"Nothing…it…it is nothing," she cooed, "It, it is just that for a moment there, you sounded like my dear Perrin. I…I suppose I should not be surprised."

She wiped idly at her face.

"He considered you one of his best friends after all."

Sebastian winced.

Perrin Bradley had been a good friend, not just a peer, but a good man as well. When Sebastian's family had been slain, it was Perrin that had went with him, watched over him and kept him out of trouble.

His death was not just a blow to House Amell. It was a loss to all of Kirkwall.

"You honor me, Milady," he said.

"No," she said, "it is you that honor us all."

Her eyes shone.

"My sister is lucky to have someone like you in her life. Having you watch over her, protecting her."

Sebastian was not sure why, but Bethany's words prickled some of those dark emotions.

Did he protect his wife, or had he failed in even that?

He had not stopped Daylen or the Qunari.

How long would she need him at her side if she had to fight all these battles herself?

Again she gave him that shy smile, she blushed slightly.

It made him smile.

"I don't suppose you would consent to walking me home. My guard's wife was sick today, he had to rush off, and with so many Templars on the streets…"

She didn't need to say anything else; he understood her fear of the Templars.

The least he could do was help remove that fear.

"Of course," he agreed readily, "No young lady should be out alone on these streets."

Again she blushed.

"Thank you Sebastian…I…I mean Milord, I…I feel safer already."

The Lord Consort grinned and offered her his arm.

Giggling she took it.

He fell in step beside her as they walked back to the keep. He could not deny that it felt good to be needed, that this girl needed him to watch over her.

Of course, what else could he do? She was family.

You always watched over your family.

He led her up to the gates of the Bradley estate. She curtseyed to him, as he gave her yet another gallant bow.

It was strange, he no longer felt as down as he once did. Elthina's decision not to aid them did not seem as dire as it had been a few moments before.

It seemed that all he had needed was to perform a little Andrastian charity.

After that, even the darkest shadows did not seem so troubling.

He returned to the keep, with a little more spring in his step.

It had been a minor thing, helping Bethany, but…right now, it was just what he had needed.

He could return to the keep with his head high.

He and Solona would think of something.

They always had.

They had faced too many storms together.

This one… would not stop them.

IOI

Bethany watched as Sebastian left her door, as he made his way back to the keep.

All trace of shyness and fear had left her features, now she smiled a cold, cruel, predator's smile.

Great things often had small beginnings.

Emotions were such fragile things. Master Alex had taught her that. There were spells that filled a person with fear, doubt, or anger, but there were also spells that lifted a person up, that made them feel calm and at ease.

Though spells could be subtle, they did not need to be forced into a person's mind, and once they had first taken root, there is no telling where they might go.

Bethany's hands twisted into angry fists.

She had not lied when she said that Sebastian reminded her of Perrin. They had both been good men, cut from the same cloth. At least until Daylen had taken him away from her.

She had believed in her cousin, had wanted her to give Perrin justice, but instead she chose to coddle his murderer. The monster that had taken him from her, the monster that had left Bethany alone.

What did Lona know about such a loss? She still had her husband?

How could she understand what that loss had felt like?

Bethany smiled.

It would take time, and a bit of emotional prodding, but in the end, Cousin Lona would know her pain.

She would know it, quite intimately.

She would know what it was like to have someone twist the man she loved mind. She would get to see the results, and in the end.

Bethany Threnhold would be there to see it.

Doubt led to fear.

Fear could then lead to anger.

Anger could lead to temptation.

The Templars and mages would keep Lona distracted; just long enough for Bethany to complete her work.

Her eyes never left Sebastian as he disappeared into the crowd.

It would take time, but it would be worth it.

If she could not have Daylen's head, she would be satisfied with another prize.

"She doesn't deserve you," she said to no one and all.

She sighed deeply.

Her golden eyes shone with a predatory light.

"You're almost too perfect."

"I must have you."


	11. A Dwarven Perspective

**Chapter 11: A Dwarven Perspective**

_My work is never done._

Varric Tethras, Hand of the Viscountess, businessman, and friend to Champion Garrett Hawke sighed as he went over the vast amount of paperwork that cluttered his desk. Most of it involved his duties in the keep, but more than a few were either requests or reports from his agents in the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. One Deshyr wanted to know this, another wanted to hear about that. It was an endless stream of veiled threats and barely disguised insults, most directed at him.

He tried to remain focused, which was not easy, outside his suite, the normal hustle and bustle of the Hanged Man tempted him to leave his desk and go out looking for trouble, even though he knew that he couldn't. Hawke was still away on his honeymoon, and Varric needed to remain right where he was, to keep an eye on their business interests. Both legitimate, and…well…semi-legitimate, though he feared those would dry up now. Being married to the guard captain did not often lead to a successful life outside the law.

The dwarf sighed.

Some days he wondered if it was worth it. Some days he asked himself why he continued to push on knowing full well what kind of rewards awaited him? He had never really…fit in in the guild, among the nobility, and his contacts in the coterie and carta were not much better. No one would cry if anything happened to him. Though he always figured that if anyone got to him, it would be the guild, if they could not bury him with paperwork, they would use more…basic means. Still…the Deshyrs were not fools. They were cold, arrogant, likely to sell their own cousins if it brought them a bigger share of the lyrium market, but they were **not** fools. They understood that his position in the keep was a direct link to the royal family, a useful connection to be sure. It was a tie they would not cut, not lightly anyway, not even in these troubled times. All that mattered to his fellow Deshyrs was business. House Amell was now living under a state of occupation. Solona had always done her best to appease the guild, but that did not mean that they would speak up in her defense, at least not now. No. The Templars that now occupied the keep would not stand in the way of their business, not when it might threaten the flow of lyrium into the city, no, in this the Templars would continue the status quo.

In that, Knight-Commander Meredith was no different than anyone else in the city of chains…

In other words, they all had their own vices that needed tending to.

They would **not **risk their supply of precious lyrium, until they did, the guild would just sit back and do nothing. Varric had little to fear of them for now and long as he had the Viscountess' ear none of them would dare interfere in what he was doing.

The dwarf shook his head.

He had been trying to come up with a plan to help Solona and her family, so far he had _nothing_. Most in Kirkwall did not see having the Templars in the keep as a problem. The royal court was pleased with the extra security, and so far, he had had little luck gaining enough support to convince the Templars to stand down.

He did not like that, not one bit. Varric had always prided himself on being a problem solver, someone who could cut through the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter.

Sadly, this time, he was having little luck. It had gotten to the point that he even considering going to outside help. He knew that was what Solona was trying to do, starting first with using her husband's old connections.

He knew that Lord Choir boy had gone to speak with the Grand Cleric, but it was clear from the Templars reaction that that had not had the effect that Sebastian had intended. The iron lady's warriors were still there. The Templars were still in the keep, still watching the royal family like buzzards eyeing a corpse…

It was likely only a matter of time before at least one decided to swoop down and take a bite.

Lady Bethany had come to him yesterday, offering to go to Starkhaven on their behalf. She believed, given the piety and reputation of the Vaels and Rosewoods; they _might _just have enough influence to sway the chantry to take action in reigning in their dogs.

_It was a good plan,_ he thought.

_It _could _work._

But when he asked her how she intended to convince them, she merely smiled and told him to wait and see, not the most reassuring thing coming from the…the…what was a good word? The…controversial young noble woman, he supposed that fit Lady Bethany these days.

Never the less, Varric had taken that suggestion to Solona, but her Highnessness had shot it down as soon as she heard it.

It was not that she doubted the Vaels, no; in this…she doubted the intentions of her cousin. Ever since Bethany's grand gesture in the Vimmarks, the Viscountess was slow to ask Lady Sunshine for aid. She could not say for certain that the girl did not have some hidden agenda in wanting to go to Starkhaven.

The dwarf frowned.

And…if that was not bad enough, there was another possibility. After everything that had happened, Solona doubted that Bethany Bradley was completely innocent in all the magical issues that had been going on in the keep. He did not blame her for that, though that suspicion left House Amell in a bad situation. Daylen Amell, what he had done, had made the Viscountess a little paranoid when it came to family members doing their own thing in protection of their family.

Once again, he did not blame her, who could, but at the same time, the division only further weakened House Amell's position in Kirkwall. It was only a matter of time until one or more of their enemies realized what was going on and took steps to take advantage of the situation.

It was enough to make the Lord Hand regret ever taking this job in the first place. He had had enough of this shit growing up with Bartrand and dealing with the guild…

If they could not trust each other, then how could they survive?

Varric grumbled and put away his latest report from the Guard Captain's office. He hesitated to read the minutes from last week's guild meeting, knowing that it might just trap in here for the rest of the day. Part of him had hoped for a chance to knock off work early. He had two manuscripts that his publisher was waiting for. The latest chapters of _Hard in Hightown_, and _Swords and Shields_ still needed a bit fine tuning before he sent them off to the printers. His publisher would no doubt haggle over the prices…again; he still thought it a mistake trying to open up the market in Orlais to Varric's work. The man insisted that there was simply no demand in the capital of the Empire for his stories.

The dwarf preferred to think otherwise.

Orlesians loved stories, or so he had been told. He felt that with a little attention, the market there would flourish.

Then his publisher would see how much good coin there was to be made catering to the reading needs of the bored nobles of the Empire.

That, in and of itself, would make all the coin they spent worth it.

He found himself staring at the latest chapter of Swords and Shields. Part of him wanted to throw it away but his publisher would not hear of it.

It was probably his worst serial, yet he was still getting requests for the next chapter. He had an audience apparently, but he could not honestly understand why.

He…he had never had a flare for romance; tragedy had always been his stock in trade when it came to writing. That probably said something telling about him, but…

"Varric?"

He glanced up at the elven girl standing in his doorway. Short even for one of her kind, but possessing a beauty that few females could match, she was pale skinned with curly shoulder length black hair. Pale elven ears poked their way up through that raven glory, eyes the color of red flame shone brightly in the dim light of his suite, turning them into two ball of red flame.

He gave her a wan smile.

"Yeah, Ruby, what is it?"

Ruby, otherwise known as the bard Serene, refused to meet his gaze, she looked away shyly now whenever he tried to get her attention.

That simple act saddened him, not to mention filled him with more than a little righteous anger.

Once Serene would have faced him without any fear. Once her ruby eyes burned like fire, both as invitation and challenge, but now…now…

He shook his head.

_That fire had all but gone out._

Ruby had been captured by Death's Hand forces a few months back. They had interrogated her, tortured her, and did Maker knew what else. When Lord Daylen surrendered, he had made sure that the girl would be released as well, that she would be returned to Kirkwall in as good a state as he could guarantee.

Varric frowned.

Serene had returned, but she had returned a far different girl then she had left.

She had little memory of what had been done to her. Her Highnessness had checked her over thoroughly, to make sure that Death's Hand's witch had not left any surprises for them inside the girl. The Viscountess had found nothing, but…

The experience had clearly changed her.

"You…you have a visitor," she informed him, her eyes never leaving the floor. Would…would you like me to show him in?"

Varric nodded, and watched closely as the girl left.

It was all he could do to keep from snarling with disgust, not at the girl, but at the actions of one Daylen Amell…

There were days, more than few in fact, that he wondered if Solona had done the right thing in sparing her brother's life. After everyone that had been hurt, after everything that he had done…

Didn't Daylen Amell deserve to be punished for what he had done?

Should he not have been forced to answer for all the pain he had caused? Not just to his family, but everyone else as well.

The dwarf shook his head; there was no easy answer to that question. Family was confusing at the best of times. He certainly had no room to talk. When he had finally found his own brother, a bastard if not equal to Daylen, then at least a close tie, he had not been able to kill him either, Hawke had talked him out of it, though there were days that he wished that he hadn't.

Bartrand was alive after a fashion, but his mind was gone, stolen by the very same idol that he tried to kill his own brother over, now he was living in a sanitarium, and would likely have to stay there the rest of his life.

Varric pursed his lips.

Death…would likely have been kinder, for both Bartrand and for young Daylen Amell.

Serene returned a few moments later, following in her wake was young Simon Poole. Varric was a bit surprised to see the young warrior here.

The Poole family had made a big splash here in Kirkwall. Angelique Poole had been Daylen's Viscountess for a while, but she had died when Solona had retaken the throne. Now Angelique's Uncle and her cousins had taken over their family estate, and few in the nobility knew what to make of them.

Varric knew Esmerelda Poole. Lady Izzy was a sweet kid, and she had jumped into Keep life and never looked back. Her brother was…a different kind of animal entirely.

He had no love for House Amell, that was certain, but at the same time he understood the value of his sister's life there. He had even volunteered to provide security when Solona went to the peace talks in Tantervale.

Now…he was here, and only Andraste herself could probably guess why the young warrior was here now.

Varric smiled and put down his quill.

"Young Lord Poole," he said giving his best fake-smile, "What can I do for you today?"

Simon Poole wrinkled his nose; this was probably his first time in the Hanged Man. Most nobles in Kirkwall did not appreciate the décor, not that he blamed them.

After all, that was why Varric had chosen to remain in his suite here. Forcing the nobles to meet with him here kept them all off balance.

When dealing with Kirkwall's elite, a dwarf needed all the edge he could get.

"My Lord Hand," Simon said glancing around the room, "I hope I have not disturbed you."

Again Varric smiled.

"Not at all, merely fighting the demons of paperwork, getting a chance to take a break from that is a relief, not a disturbance."

The Dwarf crossed his hands in front of him. Bianca sat beside him, as she always did, he did not think he would need the crossbow today, but considering how everything else had been going in Kirkwall lately, he was not prepared to take any chances.

The young warrior looked around uncomfortably, clearly he would not be spending his nights at the Hanged Man any time soon, still never let it be said that Varric Tethras was a bad host.

"Would you care to sit down, Milord?"

The young man nodded and moved for the stone chair that Varric had pointed to. One of the waitresses from below came up to ask if he wanted anything to drink, but Simon Poole declined.

Varric considered offering him a drink from his private reserve but thought better of it.

It was clear that this was no pleasure visit.

"Does your lord father require something of the Viscountess' office, Milord?" he began, "If she does, perhaps it would have been better to discuss it within the keep."

Simon Poole frowned.

"My father does not know I'm here," he said.

"Really," Varric replied.

"Yes."

The dwarf shifted in his seat, if this was not some official House Poole shit, then he had no idea what the young man could possibly want. It was not like he was actually friendly with her Highnessness and her family.

Simon Poole leaned back in his chair.

"I need a favor, Milord, and I'm prepared to pay handsomely for it."

Varric smiled.

"Ah," he chuckled.

He had to admit it, he was shocked.

_He did not thing that young Poole had it in him._

"Is this to be a bribe then, Serah?"

"Not at all," the young warrior replied, 'I have an offer for the Viscountess, and I did not wish to have the Templars breathing down my neck when I made it."

Varric chuckled again.

"Well you have certainly peaked my curiosity," he said, "So, Milord, what is it that you have to offer House Amell or the Viscountess' office."

"My offer is simply this," he said, "I'm prepared to pay a substantial sum for introduction to Captain of the Viscountess' Guard. If you can provide that, then I shall go the rest of the way on my own."

"To what purpose may I ask?"

"To join them, of course," the boy replied.

Varric nodded.

_Interesting._

"And why would you want that?"

Because it is what I desire," the young man answered, "And, as your spies have no doubt said from watching me…I would most definitely be worth it."

Again Varric nodded, he had indeed been having the young lord watched, and considering all the people he had been beating around the proving grounds in Hightown. It was safe to say that Simon's claim was no idle boast.

_The kid was good, and he knew it._

Bu that did not explain why he wanted to join the Viscountess' guard and the why was most important.

_Most important, indeed._

_He was good, but…_

…_would he be loyal?_

This…_this_ was not really what he had expected when he invited the lad in. He was still trying to work out the angles, what was the boy really after.

"The Viscountess' Guard is an elite group, Serah," he reminded him, "It might not be as easy as you think to get what you want."

Simon's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not looking to cause the Viscountess any trouble," he said, "She has nothing to fear from me, especially since she always seems to have my sister at her side."

The young warrior frowned.

"I know the kind of men the chantry chooses as Templars. Such men are too used to unlimited power, and claiming whatever they want."

From Simon's expression, it was not hard for Varric to guess what the boy feared in regards to the Templars and his sister. Varric understood those fears, it was kinda hard not to, especially after spending a night listening to Blondie's horror stories about the circle.

The dwarf sighed.

"I take it you have not mentioned this to your sister?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she will no doubt think I'm over reacting. She might even bring Father into this, to convince me to forget this plan, but if I can prove myself to the captain, show that I'm worth his time, not even my family will have reason to doubt my choice in this."

The young warrior leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Varric's.

They were as cold as stone, and no doubt twice as dangerous.

"The Viscountess is surrounded by enemies," he reminded the dwarf, "Why would she not like to remove House Poole from their number. Izzy seems happy, and my father remains a loyal servant, but I have always been a wild card have I not Milord Hand?"

Simon smiled dangerously.

"What better way to be rid of an enemy? You gain both an ally, and the chance to watch me and make sure I cause the Viscountess no problem."

The young man's smile widened further.

"You have nothing to lose, nor does the Viscountess. The enemy of my enemies is my friend," Young Poole said, "Surely you can understand the meaning of that?"

Varric nodded.

He could indeed.

He tapped idly on the hard stone desk.

"I will need to clear it with the Viscountess."

"Of course."

"Captain Farris has the final say; I can't **buy** you into the guard."

"I don't need to buy my way in," Poole answered, "My skills will do that for me."

Varric chuckled again.

"Well you certainly don't lack confidence, Serah."

"No."

"Or humility."

Simon Poole chuckled.

"My father tried to teach me, the lessons never stuck."

Varric smirked at him.

If anything else, this might prove amusing if nothing else.

In the end, why not?

The boy was not wrong; House Amell was surrounded by its enemies. Lord Henri had proven to be if not an enemy, at least someone to be watched, with both his children working in the keep.

It was a good opportunity, if it was smart well…

Only time could answer that question.

The dwarf chuckled.

"You're an interesting person serah, I'll give you that."

"Thank you, Milord Hand."

Varric snorted.

"Thank me later, if you make it into the guard. You'll find things are not as easy as you might expect."

The young warrior held out his hand.

"We'll see milord."

Varric reached out and took it, one good hard shake.

"Yes," he agreed.

"We shall."


	12. A Day in Court

**Chapter 12: A Day in Court**

The Viscountess' court had changed much since the early days of Solona's reign. Back then she had been an untested leader, with her little brother, tutor, and mother by her side, all three trying to guide her down the most stable path of rule. Gently guiding her as she discovered exactly what kind of ruler she would be, what policies she would pursue, and who would profit most from her patronage.

Now, she stood alone, Sebastian sat beside her of course, and helped her the best he could, but often she felt it was not enough. She missed her mother and Brother Alec. She missed having a little brother she could confide in and trust.

She sat on the throne, clad once again in the robes of state, the black crown of Kirkwall on her head. The nobles seemed relaxed, but more than a few had a stiffness in their movements, their eyes darting around the chamber, noticing the new faces that had taken up residence here in the keep. The Viscountess' guard remained around the chamber; watchful for any sign of trouble, but now even their presence seemed diminished.

Solona frowned slightly.

Since the arrival of Meredith's…reinforcements there were no less than five Templars in the court chambers at any time. There armor polished to a mirror shine, their faces hidden behind the winged helmets so common among the Templar officers. Lona was not sure how many high level Templars now called the keep home. She had requested a full list from the Knight-Commander, but the jackal had denied her.

_For their safety, and yours, Amell,_ the Knight-Commander assured her.

This meant of course that she had no idea which of these men was native to Kirkwall. She could not even address them by name since they almost never removed their helmets, and all were under orders only to answer questions that served the interest of the Viscountess and her nobles.

My men are strictly observers, the jackal assured her. You can trust that they have your best interest at heart, Amell.

…Once again, strictly for her own protection.

Solona sighed.

The shell game that Meredith was playing was a clever one. If the Viscountess did not know which Templars were serving in the keep, then she had no idea exactly who she was dealing with. Which ones were sympathetic to her, and which ones opposed her completely. Which ones she could trust, and which ones reported to Meredith immediately after their shifts.

She just didn't know, and the Knight-Commander seemed to prefer it that way.

She tried to conduct business as best she could, but that did not change the fact that everything that happened in the keep, was almost immediately known in the Gallows. Solona had tried speaking with the Grand Cleric about this, but as always Elthina assured her that she had nothing to worry about.

The Templars served the chantry, and the Chantry understood her plight.

She had nothing to fear of Meredith and the good men and women under her.

_They were simply here, for the Viscountess' protection._

Hearing such drivel made the Viscountess shake her head, sometimes she feared that the Grand Cleric had lost touch with her own people, the Templars were not the loyal sons and daughters of the chantry that they pretended to be.

Fortunately, so far, there had been no major problem with the Templars in the keep, they minded their manners and did not step on any of the nobles' toes, how long that would last, Solona could not say.

She hated to admit it, but the Jackal had been clever this time. She had convinced the royal court to invite their doom in the front door, though she suspected that it would not leave as quietly as it came. It was only a matter of time between the nobles and the Templars clashed.

When that happened, Solona would **have** to intervene, which was likely just what the Knight-Commander was waiting for.

All the Jackal needed was an excuse, the Threnholds had given her that excuse years ago, and been slaughtered for it.

Solona could not afford to make the same mistake.

So she sat on the throne, and listened to the merchants and nobles making their reports and petitions. She had heard nothing from the circle since this whole mess began, and she was not really expecting too. Knight-Captain Cullen came weekly to let the nobles know the state of the Circle of Magi. According to him, the First Enchanter had accepted the new security procedures, and once the matters of these recent magical attacks were resolved, things would return to normal.

It was all that Solona could do to hold her tongue during these reports.

_Who would be the one to say when the matter was resolved, the Grand Cleric, the Knight-Commander…who?_

Cullen had no answer for her.

Which of course was all the answer the Viscountess needed, this "crisis" had finally given Knight-Commander Meredith the power she had always wanted, and now that she had it…

It was unlikely she would ever let go.

She had thought of sending a letter to Leliana Cousland, surely Divine Justinia's left hand could do something to sort out this mess. Maybe even convince the Seekers of Truth to return to Kirkwall, and deal with this matter themselves.

Unfortunately, she feared that might not work. She was not the most popular ruler in Thedas these days. Many priests likely thought that the Templar occupation of the keep was a good thing, the perfect way to keep a troublemaking mage in check.

So, Solona pushed on as best she could.

Day to day life in Kirkwall continued.

The Viscountess continued to do her job, and hope of the best.

It was all that she could do.

She could not afford to rock the boat…

…at least…

…not yet.

IOI

Once again, Knight-Captain Cullen stood before her; she was trying very hard not to glare daggers at the man. Unlike many of Meredith's officers, the Knight-Captain was not simply a sycophant; several times she had heard Cousin Garrett comment on the fact that Cullen was a man of honor. He was a little fearful of magic, perhaps, but otherwise, he was a very fair man.

This is why she hated the fact that Meredith seemed to enjoy throwing him to the lions every week, forcing him to answer questions that he simply had no answers for.

She took a deep breath, and put a smile on her face. They still had to work together after all…

There was no reason that she could not at least try to be civil.

"Where is the First Enchanter, Knight Captain?"

Cullen shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"In the circle, Your Excellency," he replied, "where he belongs."

"Of course," she said letting the smile fall off her face, "that is where he belongs normally, but I seem to remember sending a request that he come and address the court today, so that we can all see that the Templars still have Kirkwall's best interests at heart."

Cullen nodded.

"The Knight-Commander read that request, Your Excellency."

"And…?"

"She decided it was not wise to allow the First Enchanter to leave the Gallows at this time."

Several of the nobles whispered among themselves, two Templars nearby glanced at each other, likely weighing their options if one the nobles decided to protest the Knight-Commander's choice to deny the Viscountess what she had requested.

"Orsino cannot be allowed out right now, Your Excellency," Cullen added quickly, "there have been issues with some of the senior mages, issues that he needs to deal with, not to mention several threats made against his life. The circle is still…adjusting to the new security measures. The First Enchanter is doing what he can to make that transition proceed more smoothly.

Cullen gave them both a pained look.

"It is safer that he remain where he is."

Sebastian leaned forward; Solona rested her hand on her husband's arm, willing him not to respond too forcefully.

"Surely the Templars could safeguard the First Enchanter if they wished," he began, "Certainly, the Knight-Commander does not think her above the orders of the Viscountess' office?"

Again Cullen shifted where he stood.

"Considering the breaches the keep has suffered in the past few weeks, the Knight-Commander found it prudent to limit the mages access here. Our investigation into both incidents is continuing, but for now we must ask the Courts patience."

Cullen fell to one knee diverting his eyes respectfully to the floor.

"The Knight-Commander is doing her best," he said, "It is the order's mandate to protect this great city from the dangers of magic."

Only then did he choose to look the Viscountess in the eye.

"All will return to normal," he promised, "The Knight-Commander…she…she just needs more time."

It was all Solona could do to keep from snorting in disbelief.

More time, how much time did the Templars truly need?

She glanced up at the members of the court; most of them were nodding or murmuring in agreement.

It seemed that the majority still favored the Jackal, until that changed, there was little more that she could do.

She sighed.

She would have be patient, for now.

The next move would be the Knight-Commander.

She pursed her lips, at the sight of the brave young man before her.

Cullen was only doing his duty, yet he now found himself caught up in the cold war between herself and Meredith, it was not fair.

What was happening here was not his fault after all.

She gave him a sad smile.

"We welcome a swift end to these matters," she said softly, "We shall trust in the order."

She paused for effect.

"We shall trust in you, Knight-Captain."

The Templar bowed.

"I…we will not let you down, Your Excellency."

Cullen gave one final quick bow and turned to leave the chamber. Solona's eyes never left him as he made his way out.

Sebastian frowned and glanced at his wife. He squeezed her hand, no doubt curious about what just happened.

She answered with a shrug.

"Cullen is a good man, husband; hopefully he will be able to keep his fellows in check.

"And if he can't?" her husband asked.

Again she shrugged.

"We shall have to do what the Grand Cleric suggests. We shall try to have faith."

Sebastian nodded grimly. He was no happier with this than she was, but what else could they do?

People were scared, as long as they were, the Jackal would hold sway over Kirkwall.

Hopefully, the Champion's return would take away some of that fear. He was to return in less than a week from his honeymoon.

Perhaps then, the people would be reassured.

The door opened to let Cullen out, but he stopped when he nearly collided with the Lady Bethany Bradley. Both excused each other before going their separate ways.

Bethany smiled warmly at her cousins while Seneschal Bran announced her appointment.

The Viscountess' eyes narrowed.

It was a rare thing for Cousin Bethany to address the court directly. In the past, had she had an issue she would have approached Solona in private.

Her coming here publicly was…unexpected.

Solona found herself wondering what the noble woman had on her mind.

What was her game this time?

As was expected, Bethany curtseyed low as she stood at the food of the dais.

"Greetings Cousin," Solona began respectfully, "What may Kirkwall do for the noble house of Bradley today?"

Garrett Hawke's sister smiled.

"I come here today, Your Excellency, with an offer from merchants of Kirkwall. Recent events have revealed to us an opportunity that we feel that we can't pass up."

Bethany's smile widened.

"All we need to proceed is your blessing."

Solona frowned. It was rare that the merchants of Kirkwall stood united on anything. The dwarves and their human counterparts rarely agreed on a course of action.

If they had reached a consensus, it was obviously something important.

"As you might be aware," Bethany began, "In the past, all trade between Kirkwall and Starkhaven was protected by security forces, hired by the merchants themselves. The Kirkwall guard had limited reach outside our fair city, and once the merchants were too far away, their security was dependent on whatever force they could hire themselves."

Solona nodded, that had been the way things had always been done.

"The recent war changed all that," Bethany continued, "Many of the mercenary groups trusted with these matters were either destroyed, or suffered such heavy losses that they were no longer able to aid their customers in these endeavors. Now raiders, faithless and darkspawn prey on anyone attempting the road between here and Starkhaven, trade is suffering for it, and quite frankly, neither city has the man power necessary to protect those whose continued business drive our economies, something must be done."

Solona crossed her hands before her face, still trying to figure out what her cousin's angle was in this.

"We take it you have an idea on this matter, Cousin?"

"I do," she replied, "Working with the dwarven merchant's guild. House Bradley intends to establish outposts between here and Starkhaven."

That started more than a few of the nobles gossiping. Trade route security had long been a problem in the Free Marches, and no merchant had ever expressed a desire to take that matter into their own hands.

The fact that Bethany now intended to intrigued more than a few of the court, even Sebastian seemed intrigued.

"An expensive proposition, cousin," Solona said.

"But a worthwhile one," she said with a hint of a smile, "Kirkwall already has agreements with the pirates of Estwatch, agreements that protect our trade on the seas. Why should we not have a similar agreement on land?"

"Starkhaven might not agree," Sebastian said, giving her a concerned look, "This might lead to trouble between you and the mercenaries that still supply security for their trade goods."

Bethany lowered her head demurely.

"Your…concern for my safety is touching, Cousin, but I assure you, it is possible to come to some sort of arrangement."

She smiled grandly then.

"I know…I know I've fallen out of favor with some on this court. I hope this new endeavor will change those opinions of me."

Solona did not even need to speculate that it was not the court that her cousin was speaking to now, but her.

She curtseyed again.

"Let me prove myself to you cousin," she said, "Let me again prove my value to this family. If you are concerned about my methods, then allow the lord Consort to watch over me in this. Given his own history with good Starkhaven, I think we can both be certain that he will do what is best."

Sebastian blinked, surprised to find himself now drawn into this.

He glanced over at his wife.

"I would be willing," he whispered, "I can keep her from going beyond your wishes again, and at the same time aid both the people here, and in Starkhaven.

Solona nodded, it sounded good, but…considering everything that had happened with Bethany recently.

She was still not sure.

"We shall…discuss this more at a later date, Cousin Bethany," she promised, "Your willingness to help, is commendable. It will not be forgotten."

Again Bethany curtseyed.

"Think nothing of it Cousin," she said, "I am prepared to do what is needed, so that every man, woman, and child in Kirkwall gets exactly what they deserve."

Solona pursed her lips.

Sebastian seemed eager to aid Bethany in this. He no doubt saw this as a chance to do some good, and help rekindle the love between her and Bethany again. Still she saw the value of proceeding with caution, just in case.

She only had two more nobles to deal with before she could adjourn for the day, after that. She would need to speak privately with her advisors.

She had much to consider.

IOI

Bethany slipped out of the keep, a contented smile upon her face.

She was more than pleased with how her day in court had gone, more than pleased indeed.

She had laid the first stone in her latest plan. Solona would consider it of course, and Sebastian, good, loyal Sebastian would do what he could to try and save Bethany soul and her friendship with dear Cousin Lona.

Which, of course was the point, her cousin would play perfectly into Lady Threnhold's hands, and in the end, give her exactly what she wanted.

Bethany glanced down at her gloved hands, and at the single ring she wore there, it was a bit gaudy truth be told but it served a valuable purpose.

It had scratched Knight-Captain Cullen exactly the way she had hoped it would, drawing a small amount of blood, not much really, just a small drop.

Bethany's smiled turned sly and cruel.

She was no blood mage, though the uneducated might call what she intended blood magic. Blood did not provide power for this ritual; it had…another purpose entirely. Blood had uses beyond simply powering rituals. Blood was life. Blood bonded, and thanks to a book she had picked up in the Black Emporium, she now had the means to use it to a very, very satisfying end.

She almost shivered at the very thought of it.

It would be a most delicious coup. She would get what she wanted, and Solona would…pay for his mistakes.

She stared at the ring; it would be a busy night, preparing the spell. She would need to be careful though. She would make sure that little Carver was asleep before she began her grand work.

One day, he would thank her for this. What she had sacrificed would lead to great boons for their family.

For now, she needed to be patient.

She needed to wait.

IOI

Solona made her way through the keep, trying to ignore the Templars that watched her passing like predators waiting to pounce.

Her head was spinning with the many choices that she would need to make in the coming days. Both the Templars and Bethany's plan would no doubt haunt her rest tonight.

Part of her longed to return to the royal apartments to rest, but that would mean that she would have even more paperwork from Bran to deal with tomorrow.

No, she would be strong. She would not put off what needed to be done.

She slipped into her office, expecting to find it empty.

She was wrong.

Two people rose as she entered. Bran must have allowed them to enter while court was still in session. There were fewer Templars up here while the nobles gathered.

It was probably the only reason why they had managed to get in without drawing attention to themselves.

"Enchanter Tobias," Solona said grimly, "What brings you to the Viscount's Keep this day?"

The portly mage smiled.

"Good evening Viscountess Amell," he began, "Forgive my interruption, but considering the dire need of my patrons, I'm sure you will understand the necessity of my being here."

The mage motioned for his companion to remove her hood, which the girl did without fear.

She smiled at the Viscountess.

Her presence here stopped Solona cold.

"Young mistress Trevelyan, this…this is a…surprise."

Anastasia Aliza Trevelyan, the third child of Bann Aliza Trevelyan of Ostwick smiled.

"Hello again, Milady," the girl said.

"I um…hope this won't cause too much trouble."

Solona said nothing. She did not know exactly what this was, but one thing was certain…

It would most definitely cause trouble.

**A/N: Next chapter, Hawke returns, and the Dalish have problems of their own.**

**DG**


	13. Welcome Home

**Chapter 13: Welcome Home**

Varric smiled as the happy couple stepped off the boat. It was a forced smile, but a genuine one, he was happy that Hawke and Aveline were back, but with everything going on, both here and abroad.

It was…hard to remain his old cheery self.

It was all he could do to keep from dumping the full weight of it on the shoulders of his two friends. Hawke always had a plan and Aveline well…

He suppressed a chuckle.

There were few things in Thedas that Aveline could not bludgeon her way through. If she set her mind to something, she would do it. It was one of the things he most respected her for, that and the ability to scare him shitless with only a few words.

The last few weeks had been hard on the Hand of the Viscountess. He had been tryi9ng hard to keep things rolling in the keep, despite the scrutiny of so many Templars. So many of his contacts had fallen silent since the Templars had moved into the keep, and those that remained were understandably skittish about talking to him, they knew how closely the Templars now watched the Viscountess and her court. Most feared this was the beginning of the end of the Amell line. More than a few of his contacts had lived through the fall of the Threnholds, most had no desire to find themselves in that kind of situation. Varric had done what he could to reassure them, but…

It was hard to reassure when the ones doing the reassuring had a blade to their throat. That iron lady had not gone that far yet, but given her history…

Who could say she would not take that course. It had worked well for the Threnholds…

He feared that she might think that it would work just as well for the Amells.

Regardless, he tried to keep an eye on things, despite his fading list of reliable sources. Everyone was scared.

Her Highnessness needed to do something about that. He needed to do something about that, though he still had no real idea what that was.

Since the wedding, it had felt like he was staggering around in the dark, constantly bumping his head against walls that he could not see.

It was not something he was used to, it was frustrating. He was getting tired of frustrating…

"Varric," Hawke declared, "How nice of you to meet us!"

The dwarf's smile widened.

There would be time for problems later, time for frustration, but not yet, not now…

Hawke was back.

That was all that mattered.

Hawke was back.

IOI

"So Lord and Lady Hawke," Varric began, "Welcome back to Kirkwall!"

The new couple paused as they stepped off the ship. Varric, Leandra, and Bethany stood before them, no doubt all the welcoming part that the Viscountess could spare right now. Solona had not come herself of course; the current situation in Hightown prevented that. She no doubt hoped that the dwarf would be able to smooth over any hurt feeling over her not being there.

Garrett, never one to be easily offended, took it in stride. If Aveline felt insulted she certainly did not show it either.

The Champion smiled slightly.

It was one of the many reasons he had come to love her over these last few years.

"Welcome home, brother," Bethany cooed, wrapping him in a sisterly embrace.

"Indeed dear," Leandra smiled, joining her daughter "Welcome home, to both of you."

Aveline smiled and gave his family, correction, their family a curt nod.

She glanced down at Varric.

"This city is still standing," she said dryly, "Well done, Varric."

The dwarf chuckled.

"I figured we would wait until after you returned before we let it all fall into the sea."

"Kind of you," the guard captain said with a hint of a smile.

Hawke glanced around the dock, on the surface nothing appeared to have changed; it was comforting truth be told.

Unfortunately, he knew otherwise.

The two of them had tried not to focus on the troubles here during their Honeymoon, even though both thought it might have been better to cut their trip short. They had sent a letter home, as soon as they arrived.

The Viscountess' response came shortly after.

Solona would not hear of it. For too long her cousin had been caught up in her messes. Both he and Aveline had suffered because of their involvement with both her and Daylen.

She would be damned if Hawke would not have at least some time to himself. Time to start his new life, and be with the woman he loved.

Hawke glanced over at Aveline. The last month had been…good to them. They had tried to follow Solona's orders, tried to focus on themselves for once.

It had been harder on Aveline; she took her oath as guard captain very seriously. Fortunately he had found a few ways to distract her from all that.

…Distracting…and enjoyable ways.

It had been a good time, a fun time, but now the time for fun was over.

Now…it was time to get back to work.

Aveline wrinkled her nose as she scanned the docks. No one paid her little mind, but that was not surprising. It was likely that few outside of the family would recognize her right now. She still wore the dark blue dress she had worn for most of their time in Orlais. It had taken a bit of doing on Hawke's part, but he had finally convinced her that she did not need to be walking around in armor on their honeymoon. She had agreed, begrudgingly, and for such a short and wonderful time, he had gotten to enjoy Aveline Hawke, his woman and wife.

Now that they were home, that was likely not going to be the case for the awhile.

Aveline's brow furrowed.

"I don't see any of my guardsmen?" she commented.

"The Templars have taken over most of the city patrols, sister," Bethany said coolly, "Apparently they don't believe the city guard up to the task anymore.

Aveline Hawke frowned deeply.

"We will just see about that," she murmured, I did not spend my time rebuilding the guard just to have us cast aside like this."

Bethany gave her a sly smile.

"You're welcome to try of course, but…"

The look on Aveline's face stopped her. It likely would have stopped a charging dragon.

"I will not just try Bethany," she promised, "I will do…"

Hawke smiled at that, if the Templars thought Aveline Hawke a push over, they were in for a very cruel surprise. Having been on the receiving end of her ire more than once, he knew at least some of what they had to expect, and she loved him…

He could not imagine what she would do to someone she actually disliked.

As they made their way up the steps to Lowtown, he found himself almost feeling sorry for the Templars.

Almost.

IOI

The return of the Champion and his wife was met with little fanfare in fair Kirkwall. Garrett Hawke was not a man who enjoyed a lot of attention, his business interests often were the type that flourished better outside the scrutiny of others. Being married to the Guard Captain of Kirkwall would likely change at least some of that, but for now, both husband and wife had agreed to keep their return a quiet affair…

Not that there was much quiet to be had in the City of Chains these days. Not after the events of their wedding.

Hawke's mind was already moving. Varric and he spoke as they made their way to up to Hightown, explaining everything that had happened in his absence. The dwarf no doubt hoped that if they put their heads together, they might just come up with a way to get the chantry to shift its position on allowing the Templars such a free hand here.

Hawke and Aveline had discussed this on their way home. Officially the Viscountess had no legal grounds to remove the Templar order, at least not yet, if he was to find some, it might be necessary to step outside the realm of traditional law and order.

He did not expect her to be pleased by that, but he hoped that she would see the need of it.

Her answer surprised him to say the least.

Aveline, always the pragmatist, claimed that she understood completely. Twice she had been in a position where those in power had betrayed her. She did not intend to see the Templars follow the same path that Teyrn Loghain and Daylen Amell had.

She would not be able to help, but she would stand aside.

As for Hawke, he was just grateful to see his family again. Mother appeared a little tired, but that was to be expected, she had been playing grandmother full time now, to not only Bethany's son, but the Viscountess' three children as well.

In fact, she made more than a few less than veiled inquires if she would be becoming busier in the future.

In Leandra Hawke's mind there was always room for more grandchildren.

That question caused Aveline to blush. Garrett did his best to deflect away from his wife, but realized that the two of them would need to confront the issue sooner or later.

Leandra Hawke was a happy grandmother.

She would always welcome the chance to become one again.

Bethany said little during their reunion. Her reaction concerned her brother. In the months since the peace talks in Tantervale, his sister had become more and more remote, spending time locked away in her estate instead of spending it with her son and family.

It was a situation that surprised him truth be told. His sister had changed so much in the last five years; there were times that he did not even recognize her. Every attempt he made to get her to open up was met with denials.

_I'm fine brother,_ she would say.

_There is no reason to worry about me._

His eyes would often narrow at those words.

_There was no reason to worry?_

He was not sure that he believed that.

Even during their time in Orlais they had heard rumors about what was going on in Kirkwall, the massive Templar force that had come to…secure the city against any magical threat. Hawke had hoped that those rumors were just stories, tales blown out of proportion by the over eager and the foolish.

Seeing Hightown again, he realized that those rumors were not far off.

He counted at least two Templars patrols in the marketplace, and a third patrolling the route between the Viscount's Way and the keep. Everywhere he looked he could see the order's silver armor, but that was not the worst of it.

For every Templar he saw, he suspected there were likely more not visible, likely dressed in plain clothes, listening to the words of the merchants and nobility, listening and waiting for just the right time to report back to the knight-commander.

He gave his sister a worried look. Seeing all this, he was afraid that his poor Bethany was going out of her mind with worry, yet she seemed calm, her demeanor cool, despite all the Templars around.

He feared she was only putting on a brave front for his benefit. It was not necessary.

She had never needed to hide anything from him.

There is so many of them," he said.

"Indeed," his sister agreed.

"The knight-Commander is not kidding is she?" he said.

"No," Bethany responded, "The Knight-Commander wasted no time in calling for Templar reinforcements. They arrived far quicker than most would have thought possible.

Aveline shook her head.

"I did not think that the other Marcher cities could spare so many Templars."

Bethany gave her a gentle smile.

"Oh, most of these men are not from the Free Marches."

"What?!" Hawke and Aveline said in unison.

"Many of them pulled from Orlais and Nevarra, but the bulk of them are from Orlais."

Bethany shrugged.

"Isn't it nice that our neighbors are so willing to help us?"

Aveline blinked after hearing that. She remembered quite well how the city had treated the Fereldans when they began to arrive during the Blight.

It was hard to believe that they would be accepting of so many foreign fighters, loyal to the chantry or not.

"And the nobles are fine with all this?" she asked.

"They seem to be," Bethany responded.

Garrett paused as a Templar patrol crossed before them, he might have been wrong, but he could almost hear the soldiers speaking the Orlesian tongue.

The very thought of this boggled his mind.

"Solona is still fighting a battle with an Orlesian baron," he said, "and no one in the nobility thinks it a bad idea to have the city filled with Orlesian Templars?"

"As I said brother," Bethany said, "So far everyone seems pleased with the new security, at least publicly. The circle has said nothing, but they are now so tightly locked down that is to be expected."

Bethany smiled again.

"We live in most interesting times brother, opportunities abound."

She leaned in close, so that only he could hear.

"We must be ready when those opportunities present themselves.

Hawke blinked, still not sure what to make of that.

Bethany smiled.

"You must forgive me," she said, "I would continue on with you towards the keep, but I have a business meeting to attend to."

"Dearest," Leandra said sounding hurt, "Your brother has just got home, can't you stay and visit for at least a little while."

Bethany gave her a sad look.

"Alas this is an important matter that I must see to without delay. Especially since Solona has decided to take a more active role in dealing with the Orlesians in Ostwick. My investors need to be assured that everything is being handled."

Again she smiled brightly.

"Who better than the Viscountess' cousin to tend to those matters." She asked.

She once again hugged Garrett and Aveline. She kissed her mother lightly on the cheek.

"Once again, welcome home brother. I fear we will need you in the days to come."

Bethany vanished quickly back into the crowd. She did not even look back.

Hawke turned to Varric.

"What did Bethany mean about Cousin Lona dealing with the Orlesians?"

Varric fidgeted.

"It is not something that is common knowledge yet, Hawke," he said, "It is certainly not something that we should discuss in the middle of the marketplace.

He gestured towards the keep.

"Her Highnessness will explain everything in greater detail, I promise."

Garrett shook his head.

He recognized the fact that you could not fight a two front war. If any of these Templars did have any leanings towards Baron Lafaille, dealing with the man quickly became a more urgent concern. The would-be Viscount had been too quiet of late, besides his usual smear campaign against House Amell, and Cousin Lona."

If he and Meredith were working some kind of angle, they needed to find out about it.

Hawke shook his head.

He had only been back in Kirkwall less than ten minutes and he was already starting to get a headache from all the plotting and scheming.

What could one say about that?

The champion chuckled.

He could think of one thing of course, it was back to business as usual in the City of Chains.

What could one say?

Well…if he had to say anything it would be:

Welcome home.

IOI

Night once again settled in the Free Marches, the waves crashed against the rocks, and the wind rustled the trees.

At the base of Sundermount, the Dalish Sabrae clan once again settled in for the night. The cook fires pushed back the shadows and the sound of Elvish song were carried off by the breeze.

Keeper Marethari watched over her small flock, in the morrow she would send several of her hunters to retrieve several elvhen artifacts from a small cave not far from here. A passing shemlen trader had offered them the location of this latest stash in exchange for several ironbark bows and swords.

The Dalish Keeper had had no qualms about making such an arrangement; anything that could help the people rediscover their roots was worth the price.

Marethari moved slowly through the camp, checking on her people's welfare, the clan was nervous. None of them doubted that they had remained here far longer than they should, to remain still for too long invited attack by the shemlen and their chantry, but at last she had found a way to perhaps remedy that. She had recently made contact with another Dalish tribe. Clan Lavellan, another group that wandered not far from here, had apparently heard of their plight and wanted to help. It seemed likely that her fellow keeper might be willing to trade some Halla in exchange for hearing about the mysteries that Clan Sabrae had discovered in this place.

Marethari had sighed when she heard the news. At last she had some good news to give her people; at last they would have some hope.

She still did not like the idea of leaving Merrill or Lyna behind, and she wouldn't, not unless it was absolutely necessary. They were still…

"KEEPER!"

Marethari spun, turning to the young lookout who had cried out.

She could only watch as the Da'len fell, is throat pierced by a heavy iron bolt.

The elves startled, their songs ceased.

Shemlen arrows rained down on the camp.

The aravels caught fire. Women screamed as flaming shafts fell all over the camp.

Marethari called on her magic to shield them, but it was then that ball of black fire exploded in the center of the camp, knocking her to the ground.

Ears ringing, the keeper tried to regain her feet.

More arrows fell.

Marethari struggled to her feet. She fired a magic bolt blindly into the night hoping to distract the attackers.

What was going on, she thought.

We have done nothing to warrant this?

Why would someone attack us?

Why?

The hunters swarmed around her, arrows at the ready, they fired a volley in the direction of the attack.

The shooting stopped.

The Keeper leaned against her staff; her arm throbbed from a burn from the magical flames that now blazed through their camp. She set the hunters to work, they needed to secure the area, see to the wounded and tend to the dead. Once that was done, they would send out scouts to discover who was behind this cowardly attack.

She shook head.

Her clan had done nothing; they had even aided the shemlen when they could…

Why would someone do this?

Who would do this?

Who?

IOI

The Faithless scattered, many cackling to themselves as they fled back into the shadows. Neria Surana had bred them for carnage, and they were only happy when they were causing some.

Their leader sneered as they listened to the distant shouting elves. It was amazing how such a little thing could yield such large results…

The elves would be looking for blood now, and when they found out who was responsible, who the mistress wanted them to think was responsible…

Everything would proceed exactly as planned.

He turned to his mistress, the dark lady had watched as they unleashed their volley, the patsies were already in place, now it was time to get out of here, and let fate take its course.

The Faithless smiled a smile full of rotted teeth.

"Are you pleased, Milady?"

Bethany smiled coldly.

"I am indeed," she purred.

"Now, onto the next step."


	14. Brother's Aid

**Chapter 14: Brother's Aid**

_Boredom._

It was the one enemy that Daylen Amell had to fight against daily. Thought his room in the keep, far better than the dungeon cell he had lived in before, had little to offer a young man with such…such…interests.

He frowned severely as he stared up at the canopy of his four poster bed. His gilded cell had little left to offer him on the subject of keeping his mind occupied.

He shook his head.

Perhaps execution would have been better than this? Of course, if he had been executed, then there would be no chance of proving his detractors wrong.

Most people saw him as a monster, a tyrant, he recognized that now…

_It was strange that he had never seen it before._

He sat up in bed and sprung quickly to his feet, the plush carpet feeling good as it squished between his toes. Slowly, he began to pace, thinking about everything that had come before.

Perhaps _that _would be enough to entertain his troubled mind.

He had done all he could to avoid this. It had started with the little things, the books Leandra had brought him, then he had turned to drawing, he had enjoyed that in his youth, and his imagination did give him at least some release from the monotony, but in the end, even that pleasure faded.

Daylen sighed heavily.

He had even taken to counting the tiles on ceiling, taking special note of each imperfection in them. He had counted them forty two times, all two hundred and fifty six of them, just to make sure he had gotten them all.

He almost smirked at the mere thought.

_At least he was not so far gone that he had started __**naming **__them yet._

Of course, the idle pleasures of such trivialities soon ended, and he was left with one final thing that he could analyze. One final puzzle that might just keep him from going insane…

That thought gave him pause.

According to everyone else, he already was insane, and the more he thought about it, he feared they might be right.

It was a disturbing thought to be sure.

In his mind he went back over everything that had happened since his sister's coronation. That event was likely where it had started, where his mind started to go wrong. He thought about some of the conversations he had had. He thought about the people he had turned to, and in the course of turning to them, made them his allies.

Once again his frown returned.

He found himself thinking about Angelique, their first meeting in the keep, the spark between them. The fire that had consumed his every waking hour in the days that followed. Angelique, his beloved bride had…fed his ambitions on certain things, and as he fed them, his behavior had become…more, and more…extreme.

The strange thing was that he felt no remorse for those events; he recognized the horror in what he had done. The plots against his sister, the murder of Saemus Dumar, and the private execution of Lord Marlowe Dumar after the loss of his hand, his mind was clear enough now to recognize all those events as wrong, in some cases more than wrong, but…again he was confused by his emotional reaction to them.

He remembered each event with crystal clarity, he remembered what he had said and done in most cases during those events, but...he felt no…emotional attachment to any of them.

It…it was so strange.

It felt, well, it felt like he had read what happened in a book. He knew the players and the events, but beyond that, his heart was not attached to any of it. It was like he had been a passive observer to those events, or that he had heard reports later of what had occurred. It…it was…

He shook his head.

It was all very confusing, and disturbing.

He remembered that he had been in love with Angelique, but he no longer felt that way now, like someone had **told** him he had been in love with her. He remembered his encounters with Neria, both professional and privately, she had been his mistress after all, but again he felt no emotional tie to those events. It felt, well…it felt like he had been told about the events from a stranger, told in great detail perhaps, but it still felt like he had not been there.

Of course, his body still stirred at the memory. How could it not? Neria and Angelique had both been beautiful women; he could still recognize that, but again "But" reared its way into his thoughts.

It was if someone else had loved them, it…it made no sense!

He **knew** what he had done, accepted it, but at the same time…

A cold shiver ran down his spine, that, a strange sense of wrongness…

He **knew**, or at least it seemed that way.

He felt like those acts had been committed by _someone_ else, which, of course, made **no sense!**

He **was** Daylen Amell. **He** had done those things, all those things. He remembered them all so clearly.

_How could he think they had been done by someone else?_

_Perhaps that was the definition of madness, his inability to feel remorse for his actions, even though he knew they were wrong!_

He walked over to the mirror, forced himself to look into, to be real for a second. He stared back at his reflection, glaring into the intense eyes staring back at him.

"Who are you," he murmured.

That thought caused a strange reaction, almost a sense of deva vu. He remembered sitting in a chair, Neria was there, smiling at him, his…his head had felt so cloudy, so cloudy that he did not remember exactly when this was.

The blood mage had smiled at him; her cruel eyes alight with anticipation.

"You are Daylen, third son of Aristide and Revka Amell."

Her smile widened.

"Never…forget that," she purred.

He had blinked, blinked and…and…

Daylen shook his head; the memory was too slippery like quicksilver.

It was gone as quick as it had come, like a cloud passing over the sun.

Daylen blinked.

He almost snarled at himself, and all this foolishness.

Of course, he was Daylen Amell, who else would he be…?

A shiver ran down his spine.

_Who __**else**__ could he be?_

A loud knock at the door interrupted his musings. He jumped surprised by the sound, and thought himself a fool as soon as it was over.

"Yes," he called out.

The door opened. Two Viscountess' Guards stood before him.

He smoothed out his shirt and dusted off his trousers.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Your sister wished to speak with you Milord," one of them said, "Could you please come with us."

Daylen nodded. It was rare that Solona requested his presence, typically when he met with Kirkwall's military leaders to tell them what he knew; his sister chose to make herself scarce.

The young lord's brow furrowed slightly.

What could Solona need that she would summon him into her presence? It was not something she enjoyed…

He fell in step between the guards; let them escort him to his sister.

There was really only one way to find out.

IOI

"The time has come to remove Baron Lafaille from the Free Marches, and I need your help to do it."

Solona turned to her brother, both she and Cousin Garrett stood over him. The young lord blinked as the two of them finished outlining what they wanted…

To say the least, he was a bit surprised, surprised, and a bit shocked.

Daylen leaned back in his chair, his hat rapping lightly on the arm.

He gave them both a slight smile.

It is an interesting idea sister," he began, choosing not to look in her the eye, lest the amusement he felt about all this cause her to send him back to his gilded cell.

He was…more than surprised by all of this. Of all things Solona could have asked of him, this would not have been high on his list.

Still, one did not look a gift horse in the mouth. If Solona wanted to do this, who was he to dissuade her, and besides.

Here was the answer to his boredom problem.

"The nobles in Ostwick have grown weary of Baron Lafaille and his chevaliers," Hawke added, "So much so that a small group of them have begun a campaign to see the man removed from their city and sent back to whatever rock he crawled out from under."

"Given our history with the Baron," Solona continued, "They have asked for our help, for us to strike from without while they strike from within. The plan seems reasonable considering some of things I have heard in recent months. The Baron has fallen far from the place of renown he held when he first arrived in Ostwick. Now the nobles have grown concerned and want him gone."

"How do we know this offer is on the level?" Daylen inquired, "It could still be a trap?"

"We have thought of that," Solona said, "It is one of the reasons I waited before telling you about this. The Banns of Ostwick seem generally interested in removing the Orlesian. One has even gone so far as sending her daughter here as insurance, to show that this deal is genuine."

Daylen nodded, so far so good, it did not sound like a trap, but he knew from experience, looks could be deceiving.

The best laid traps were subtle traps, with no surface threats showing.

He had always preferred subtle traps.

"I…um…was under the impression sister. That you originally thought it best not to try and provoke the Baron? That acting openly against him might cause more harm than good."

Daylen glanced down at his missing hand, the thought of being part of a conspiracy again; it made him feel as if he still had his claws.

He could almost feel them clicking with anticipation!

"The situation has changed, little brother," Solona sighed, "As you are no doubt aware, the keep is currently playing host to a full garrison of Templars…"

"Most of them Orlesian, Templars," Hawke added.

Solona gave her brother a knowing look.

"I think you can imagine why I have become concerned."

Daylen nodded.

"You think the Knight-Commander may have struck a deal with Baron Lafaille?"

"It is possible," the Viscountess agreed.

"There was also an attack on the Dalish camp near Sundermount," Hawke added, "Someone fired arrows into their camp, set several of their landships ablaze."

Daylen's eyes widened. Even at his worst, he had never considered provoking the Dalish. He had always thought it wiser to keep them out of his business, safer.

Someone else clearly did not agree.

"Do you know who did it?" the young lord asked.

"No," Lona said, "the arrows were stock; you could find them in any market between here and Antiva. The Dalish did find a body though, a human mercenary, badly burned, probably when the keeper tried to defend her people."

"Your sister managed to convince the Dalish that this was not caused by us," Hawke said frowning, "It is the only reason why the clan hasn't declared war on every merchant trying to leave this city."

Again Daylen nodded.

"You suspect the Baron," he said, "Given his history with elves in general?"

"It is possible," Solona said, "Perhaps he did this to make me appear weak, give the Templars more of an excuse to look closer at my rule. Magic was used during the attack, so Meredith's knee jerk reaction would be to suspect me, or the mage underground."

Garrett shook his head.

"It could be that simple, Meredith could be softening House Amell up so that Lafaille can swoop in and be crowned not only Viscount, but a hero to the people."

Daylen rested his hand to his lips as he digested the theory posed by his cousin and sister.

It had…_merit_, but part of him still wondered if they were missing something.

It seemed too… heavy handed for the Orlesian. The Knight-Commander was not a subtle woman, she could fake it if she had to, but even the thought of her using such a tactic seemed unlikely. Meredith liked having the moral high ground, or at least the illusion of it.

No, something else was likely going on here, but Daylen was not fool enough to bring it up, not without good hard prove. His sister had given him an opportunity.

He did not intend to waste it.

"We intend to aid the nobles of Ostwick, brother,' Solona said, "Give them what they need to keep their homeland from becoming a beachhead in some Orlesian invasion."

Daylen almost smiled.

"The empress would never allow that," he reminded her.

"Not officially," the Viscountess agreed, "But she would shed no tears if one of her loyal subjects became Teyrn of Ostwick."

The young lord shrugged.

That made sense.

"So why do you need me?" he asked, "You have Cousin Garrett and a group of pliable nobles. What is my place in this?"

Solona sighed heavily.

"Your place is that you know Marcher politics. Garrett may be Champion and know the underworld, but you know the nobility, and you have proven that you know how to get to them, manipulate their vices."

Daylen nearly laughed.

That almost sounded like flattery.

Almost.

Garrett gave him a cold look. Not surprising considering how much his cousin had suffered during Daylen's brief stint as Viscount.

He did not blame him; he did not blame any of them.

Daylen knew his sins.

"So how about it Runt," he said gruffly, "Are you in?"

The young lord sighed.

"Before I answer," He began, "I must ask. Are you both committed fully to this? Because once we begin there will be no turning back. The three of us working together may just have enough pull to make this work, but…be warned…"

Daylen's face blossomed into a full smile.

"This will likely be a very, very dirty business. Are you both prepared for consequences?"

He looked at Garrett.

"Cousin?"

"I'm in," the Champion of Kirkwall said.

He turned to his sister.

"Last chance sister," he warned, "You don't have to be involved with this."

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"I'm tired of living under a threat, brother. I'm tired of waiting to see if Meredith or some random Orlesian Templar decides to just open the gates and allow that Orlesian bastard to march in here and hurt my family."

She sighed.

"I'm prepared to do what is needed," she said, "Now are you in, or are you out?"

Daylen smirked.

He knew there was a reason he got out of bed this morning.

One thing was to be sure, things would not be boring in the near future.

He offered her his hand.

"I'm in," he promised.

Solona shook it, but at the same time shook her head.

"Maker help us all," she murmured.

Her brother almost laughed at that.

"Oh sister," he smiled.

"The Maker…he is going to sit this one out."


	15. One Last Chance

**Chapter 15: One Last Chance**

What a Glorious day!

Daylen Amell smiled as he made his way through the gardens of the Viscount's Keep. Summer had only just begun to give way to fall. The crispness of the good sea air told of that, but for now the great gardens were still in full bloom, still full of life.

It had been years since he had been allowed out like this; he was still being watched of course, guards were never far from him, just in case he tried to do anything…provocative.

The very thought made him snort with amusement.

After being locked up in the tower for so long, he had no intention of endangering this most simple of pleasures.

No.

He was too grateful to do anything like this.

He paused often, either to inspect the status of a certain flower, or to run his fingers over one of the many marble statues, just to make sure this was all real. It had been a very long time since he had last felt at home here in the keep.

It was a sensation he intended to enjoy to the fullest.

Briefly, his smile faltered as he thought about the past, about all the years he had lived here, back before he had actively begun trying to depose his sister. Strangely enough, those memories…they…they felt distant somehow.

It was odd, to say the least, being out here, it was, well, it was like seeing these gardens for the first time, which was ridiculous, after all, he had often played here as a child. He still remembered his favorite haunts, the hiding places, that lovely spot where the sun's warmth did not quite fade away, not until the early hours of dusk anyway…

His smile returned, but was now tinged with sadness.

He had never really…looked at this place; never saw it for the wonder that it was, never allowed himself the simple pleasure of simply walking in this garden. Even his earliest memories were now tainted by his dark ambition, how things would be different when the throne was his. How he would build a legacy even greater than anything his storied fore fathers had dreamed.

The very thought now made him purse his lips. How blind he had been.

Everything he had done back then had been dominated by his need to be Viscount, to be greater than his father, greater than anyone.

It was a very hard thing to admit, to look in the mirror and see the imperfections staring back at you, to acknowledge the shadows that were there even in the light of day.

Ambition had been everything. Even his desire for Angelique had been tied up in it. He had needed to have a beautiful Viscountess at his side. She wanted power as much as he, but still…she had been merely a possession to him, a status symbol, even her pregnancy had been about him. **His** legacy. **His **status.

He…he had not allowed himself to simply feel the love for his bride, for simply being her husband, and father to their child. All that had been tied up in his grand legacy, what he had seen as his destiny.

Beauty and love had no place in that world; he had certainly never seen it here, in this very garden.

He had never really seen this place back then, everything in his life had been a stepping stone, a single step on the path to absolute power. The younger him had not been able to appreciate the beauty of this place. He had not been able to bask in the simple joys of his life.

Daylen shook his head.

_Experience had taught him otherwise…_

He had been, and he could admit this to himself now, a fool.

Yet, recognizing his faults did not correct them, one did not banish the dark by simply acknowledging it was there.

It was still there of course, that flaming hunger, that desire to be almighty, to punish all those who had been a part of his downfall, to reduce this entire city to ash. It roared like a caged predator, even though he tried very hard to deny it, it was still there, caged, waiting.

He sighed heavily.

He would not give into that part of him again.

_Really?_

The cold voice inside his head made him shiver; this was the voice of his greed, the madness that had consumed him.

He tried not to listen.

_You haven't changed, the voice continued, you still delight in the cruel world of Marcher politics. It is what entertains you. __**It**__…is what lights you up. You need it. You still hunger for it. _

No, Daylen thought.

_I'm in control. I'm helping my sister._

_You are helping her destroy Baron Lafaille._

_He is a threat to our family._

_An excuse._

_No, it is the truth._

_Your motives do not matter; you are still going to do a very dark thing. You will be the savior of your family, of your city._

A shiver ran down Daylen's spine.

Is that not what you always wanted?

Again Daylen paused; he stood before a flowering bush that his mother had planted in these gardens when he had still been quite young. Thinking about Revka Amell made it easier to find his purpose again. She had paid the price for his arrogance before, she…who believed him her perfect darling boy, he had failed her, betrayed her.

He…he would not disappoint her again.

What would she say if she knew the full details of his plan? Would she have agreed?

Would his mother…have thought what was about to happen…necessary?

Daylen sighed.

It was a question with no simple answer.

He could not deny that Solona coming to him had flattered his ego. The fact that she recognized his skills in this matter, and sought his aid was…intriguing.

It had not been hard to come up with a plan to remove the Orlesian Baron from Ostwick. In truth, he had been working on this plan for quite some time, since his escape from his sister's dungeons, in fact. He knew what he wanted, and how best to implement it, but alas, he had lacked the necessary resources to make the plan viable. He had still been an outlaw after all, and his family's connections in Ostwick had been sketchy at best.

Again a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

His dear sister had changed all that.

The allies she had cultivated among the nobles of Ostwick now made it possible to his plan come to fruition. He had already prepared the necessary letters to his few agents within the double walled city. Once they were informed of who their noble allies were, they could begin in earnest.

Once Solona sent those letters, there would be no turning back.

Again, Daylen felt a shiver run down his spine, one of both fear and anticipation.

They could do this.

He wanted to do this, but at the same time…the same time…

There could still be complications, and there would definitely be fallout. He had done his best to warn his sister about that, but she seemed willing to face the consequences.

Part of him wondered if she really knew what was to come.

If she understood the price that she would have to pay to see what she wanted come to pass.

Daylen's frown deepened.

He would warn her one last time. If she decided to continue, he would push such fears out of his mind.

Solona was Viscountess after all.

Her will be done.

And what about you, that dark little voice in the back of his mind asked.

What about me?

He thought he could hear a dark chuckle.

You are going back into a very dark place to accomplish this. If you go back into that place, you might not find your way out again. You…might not even want to find your way back.

The young noble swallowed hard.

_Darkness has never scared you Daylen Amell._

_To you, it is home._

He tried to dismiss such thoughts.

He knew who he was.

He would not forget that again.

"Milord?"

He turned one of the guards had approached him. Solona had allowed him to walk in the gardens this day, at least until she was ready to see him about the next phase of his plan. The guards had been instructed to keep their distance as long as he did not try and escape or cause trouble.

The fact that he had approached meant only one thing, still proper etiquette needed to be observed.

He straightened and brushed at his doublet.

"Um…yes, what is it?" he asked.

"The Viscountess is ready to see you, Milord," he said, "She is waiting in the gazebo."

Daylen nodded.

So the time had come.

He would do his best to make the best of it.

"Very well," he said, "Lead the way soldier."

The man nodded and gestured for him to follow. The two guards trailing them increased their speed to keep up.

Daylen, of course, said nothing.

He did not fear his sister, if she wanted to do him harm she would have chosen something more…straight forward that a simple meeting in the gardens.

Solona lacked subtlety that was both a gift and a curse. Fortunately, she had him here now.

He could be more than subtle, and when the time was right, when the timing was perfect.

He would tell her to strike.

IOI

Solona sat at the small table in the gazebo. He said nothing, but he was a little bit, surprised. The Viscountess looked haggard, like she had not been sleeping well, she had bags under her eyes, and her hair was not as…well styled as usual.

Of course that meant little. He remembered well the headaches of the affairs of state, and Solona had been doing it longer than he had.

It was no surprise that she looked a little tired.

She was here, and they had business to attend to, and they were also not alone.

She was flanked by Cousin Garrett, that dwarf Tethras, and Ser Graydon Stark, her chief attack dog.

He saw no sign of the Lord Consort or Lady Bethany, which was perhaps a good thing, considering his history with both of them. He had tried to have Sebastian killed once and Cousin Bethany…well…

She had more than enough reasons to hate him.

The rumors he had heard while being taken to this meeting or that was that the two were on their way to Starkhaven together, to finalize Bethany's plans on her new trade agreement. Starkhaven was after all Kirkwall's largest trading partner. Any deal involving trade would have to go through the Vaels.

There had also been rumors he had heard of Dalish elves attacking travelers. Revenge for the attack on their camp on Sundermount no doubt, with such renewed threats; Cousin Bethany would likely find few people opposing her latest trading deal.

He hated to admit it, but he was impressed. His cousin had grown into a formidable businesswoman.

He was not sure if he should be glad or frightened.

Of course whatever was going on with Cousin Bethany was a minor thing, right now they needed to focus on removing the Orlesian.

That was why they were all here.

Daylen paused before stepping inside; an empty seat awaited him, as well as a plate of food and cup of tea. It seemed that Solona was willing to play the gracious host today.

Garrett's face was unreadable, but that was not surprising given the history between him and his younger cousin. Both the dwarf and Stark did not seem pleased to see him here, but once again, he did not blame them.

Varric Tethras might have taken his job as Hand of the Viscountess, but he lacked the ruthlessness necessary to deal harshly with the Viscountess' enemies. Stark was a soldier, who preferred direct action over trickery.

Daylen almost smiled.

He had heard from the servants that Stark had fallen out of favor with his sister. That Solona had been angry about Stark's role in that business in the Vimmarks. If the man was here, then it was clear that the two had likely mended their bridges.

That was good Daylen thought, Solona would need all the allies she could get in the coming days.

He smiled.

"Greetings sister," he purred offering her a gallant bow.

"Brother," Solona said with a slight nod.

"**Lord** Daylen," Varric said with no shortage of sarcasm.

"Your lordship," Stark said.

""Hello, Runt," the champion said coldly.

The Viscountess gestured for him to sit.

Daylen took his place at their table.

For a moment there was an uncomfortable pause. No doubt some here did not think it right that he had been allowed to help in this endeavor.

Daylen smiled.

He hoped to change all their minds.

"Are we ready to begin, brother?" Solona asked.

He nodded holding up the letters.

She took them from his hand, reading each carefully.

Daylen did not blame her. She had much to lose if this plan went sour.

Solona pinned him with a piercing gaze.

"Do you trust these people?"

Daylen shrugged.

"I trust them to follow their own ambitions. They have appetites that your allies can…appease. That will keep them in line, and loyal to our cause."

Stark gave him an arched look.

"Our cause?" he asked.

Again Daylen shrugged.

"If the Orlesian is not removed from Ostwick, we will all suffer. It is only a matter of time until he comes up with some kind of plan to hurt this family and with so many Orlesian born Templars in the keep…"

"You think the chantry's soldiers would betray their oath?" Varric asked.

Daylen almost chuckled.

"Don't you?" he asked.

Daylen glanced over at the main entrance to the keep; even now two Templars stood watch there. The distance they kept suggested indifference to this meeting, but Daylen did not buy that for a minute.

If the Templars wanted to know what was going on, they had ways of finding out. It was very likely that some had already turned some of the staff here, convinced others to spy for them.

Daylen licked his lips.

Knight Commander Meredith likely knew something was going on, but she did not know what, at least…not yet. It was why they needed to deal with this matter quickly.

If she was fishing for some deal with the Orlesian, the sooner they dealt with him, the better.

Solona gave him a cool look. It said that she likely agreed with him, but could not openly admit it, not with so many Templars watching.

She was still a mage after all; one word from the Divine and the Templars would happily rip her from power. She needed to be careful, she understood that.

Solona stared down at the letters. No doubt thinking about what she was about to do. For so long she and he had been enemies, now…she had asked for his help.

He had always known his sister was brave, this only proved it, but she still had doubts, that was good.

The line between bravery and foolishness was a thin one.

His sister was trying to stay on the brave side.

"I will send these out tonight," she promised.

She went to rise, but Daylen reached out with his hand, stopping her.

Everyone at the table tensed, fearing that he might be trying something…provocative.

"One last thing, Sister," he said quickly.

Again there was a pregnant silence; the Viscountess stared down at his hand.

Finally she sighed, and motioned for everyone to relax.

The guards lowered their weapons, even Daylen sighed with relief.

"Yes, Brother," Solona said coldly.

He smiled slightly.

"I just wanted to make sure you were aware of what you were doing."

"I know what I'm doing," she replied, "I'm trusting you to help us remove Baron Lafaille from Ostwick."

"There is that," Daylen said, "But are you sure you are ready for the consequences of these actions? No, plan is entirely bloodless; there are always prices to be paid."

He sat back in his chair looking down at his missing hand.

"This was the price I paid for gaining Angelique," he said holding up ruined arm. "A major accomplishment, but nothing compared to what you are doing now. I'm sure your allies are aware that you want to minimize the loss of life in endeavor, but do not think for a moment that everything will go completely without a hitch."

Solona seemed to consider what he had said. She raised her free hand, no doubt thinking about the price that would need to be paid before this was all over.

Solona knew the plan, the details were in the letters, if everything went as planned, and the nobles of Ostwick would be able to remove the Baron without any consequences from the city's Teyrn. If the Orlesian tried to resist things might get a little bloody, but if the nobles did their part…

It would be far less bloody then it might have been.

Finally, Solona nodded.

"I'm doing this for my children," she said, "I don't want a blood bath, but whatever price is owed, I will pay it."

Daylen sighed.

That was what was different about this plan, unlike anything else he had done before; this was not simply about him. It wasn't just about the city, or even the name of House Amell. Solona had her children to think of, her little twins.

Daylen had his daughter. He…he had never even gotten a chance to see her, he knew she was well, but little more than that.

Daylen pursed his lips.

He had never been there for her, never, but she was still his blood.

He had never been there for her, his little Angie, but that did not mean that he did not care.

She deserved a chance to have a life, to find her own destiny in this world.

He would not deny her that.

The plan would go forward.

"As you wish sister," he said, taking a gentle sip of his tea.

She turned to leave.

Daylen smiled sadly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."


	16. The Dark Lady

**Chapter 16: The Dark Lady**

The coach bounced as it made its way down the road to Starkhaven. All around it, soldiers from Kirkwall, some city guards, others hired mercenaries formed a wall of horses between the carriage and its sole occupant.

Bethany said nothing as they continued on their journey. As one of the wealthiest women in Kirkwall she had no shortage of protection, many of her rivals would have enjoyed the thought of her being hurt, especially since she had so brazenly volunteered to pay to make the trade routes safer for all travelers between the City of Chains and the great city of Starkhaven on the Minanter River.

The mage smiled slightly.

At least, that it what she wanted everyone else to think.

Her fingers closed around a small misshapen wooden stick in her hand, barely a twig really, but one simple spell would reveal it to be the mage's staff she had purchased all those months ago from the black emporium. Even now she could feel the spirits stolen from so many, spirits that had fueled her great power.

Shrinking it down in no way diminished its power…

Nor did it diminish **her**.

She briefly found herself thinking of her son, her dear little Carver, her dark haired little prince. She had done what she could to distant him from what she had become. She felt no shame, but that did not mean that she did not want him kept safe from the darkness she now wielded.

She recognized that Carver needed more than her, deserved more than her. He needed a strong man to guide him on the path to adulthood. A man who could protect him, while at the same time teach him about the cruelties and wickedness of the world.

Her lip curled into a sneer.

By the time this journey was done, she would have just such a man.

She leaned back, and took a deep breath, centering herself. Preparing herself what was coming very soon. The guards were ready for trouble, she didn't doubt that, but even they could not imagine what awaited them on the road ahead.

Her hand clenched the tiny staff with anticipation.

Monsters were waiting, and with it an opportunity.

She shivered as a heady warmth spread from her belly and out to the rest of her body.

Tonight, her hero would rise…

…And she would be there to take him into her arms.

She would be ready…

…to make him hers.

A brief twinge of regret ran through her, what she did tonight would hurt someone she loved, hurt her very much, or would have, had Bethany not made the proper arrangements.

Garrett would never have approved, neither would Aveline, but what did they know?

They already had each other.

Bethany was alone.

It was time to remedy that.

There was a knock on her door of her carriage.

She smiled.

It was time to start the show.

She leaned forward and pulled back the curtain.

"Yes, Sebastian," she cooed.

The Prince consort looked absolutely delicious in his white armor; the dark blue tunic only seemed to enhance the pearly white plates of his chest plate.

"Is everything all right, Milady?" he inquired, "You have been very quiet since we left Kirkwall."

She shivered slightly, giving him that shy smile that had driven her dear Perrin to distraction.

She was not pleased to see that Sebastian did not respond to it as strongly as her late husband, but no matter.

She would have everything she desired…soon enough.

"I'm…a little nervous," she pretended to confess, "So many brigands on these roads now…"

She shook her head.

"I just want this journey to be…uneventful. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to yo…I mean our party."

Sebastian smiled warmly.

"Fear not, Milady," he said sounding like one of the knights of legend.

"You are quite safe. I will not let anything happen to you."

She blushed slightly.

"Th…thank you, Sebastian," she purred.

"It is nice to know that you are watching over me.

He gave her another nod, and set his horse up towards the front of their little caravan.

Bethany ducked back in carriage and pulled the cover across it.

She looked down at her tiny staff.

So much had happened since she had found it.

She found herself thinking back to her little "plan" all those months ago, the so called Massacre of Crowns.

She smiled at that memory.

Ser Avery Howell had thought her just another pawn, a pretty little bauble he could manipulate something he could wear on his arm and make an attempt to claim the Viscount's seat.

She had taught him otherwise.

She had savored the look in his eyes when he realized that she had played him. He had gathered oh so many of House Amell's enemies in one place, and then with a single spell, she had destroyed them.

It had been so…delicious.

Several of those men and women had slain by her personally, their lives now a part of her staff, but not Howell, oh no…

He required a special reward for all his hard work.

She had called on the dark forces inherent in her staff, twisting the arrogant fool into the perfect abomination, or at least something that looked like an abomination. She had driven him mad with nightmares so horrifying that his mind had snapped. When he had staggered out of that estate, wailing like some demon of the fade, how could anyone do anything else but slay him?

It was mercy, of sorts, after she was through with him?

Again she smiled.

Solona of course had not appreciated her little gift. She thought Bethany a criminal for taking such steps.

She shook her head.

Her dear cousin lacked vision.

Thinking of Solona made her realize how much she could have hurt her? The Viscountess had turned her back on her, on her family!

It was most unkind of her.

Well, Bethany was not the type to hold a grudge.

In fact, she was more than willing to give her dear cousin a gift. The kind of gift that would make the losses she was about to suffer more…bearable.

The Lady Threnhold smiled.

Never let it be said she was a monster.

She took what she wanted, yes.

But she was always willing to give something else in return.

The assault on the Dalish camp had removed any further blocks to her plans for Kirkwall and Starkhaven, and now…thanks to the Faithless.

She was ready to move on to the next stage.

IOI

Three days before they had left Kirkwall, she had taken two of her most powerful Faithless down into one of the darkest corners of Darktown.

Normally she would not have needed bodyguards, but she could not say how much her latest spell would take out of her. It wasn't blood magic, not exactly, but it was still a powerful spell.

It was better to be safe than sorry.

Once they had slipped out of the main tunnel, they saw fewer and fewer of the unfortunates that lived down here. The chambers up ahead radiated an aura of sorts, a power that even the most base of mundanes could feel.

It was more than enough to keep such people back.

The two misshapen creatures glanced around nervously.

She shook her head at them.

"I thought my cousin, took away your ability to feel fear?" she inquired.

The stronger of the two creatures gave her a peevish look.

"We feel no fear, mistress," he growled, "But even Lord Death's hand would not wish us to walk into such a place…unaware."

Bethany sneered.

"My cousin no longer has need of you," she reminded them, "He has given up. He is a failure."

She smiled fiercely.

"One day he will answer for what he cost me," she purred, "On that day you will see the wisdom in joining me. Then you will see what it means to serve one who wields true power. One who does not need to hide behind a blood mages skirt."

The two Faithless said nothing.

They still did not like speaking ill of their creator. That was fine.

They would learn…in time.

She knew that the Faithless had retreated into hiding, but she also knew that they were not being idle. She knew that they were multiplying, readying themselves to claim their own place in this world.

When the time came, they would need leadership. Leadership she would happily supply.

One day, all of Thedas would know her name, her family's name.

She would bring glory to House Amell, and her children.

She pushed deeper into the shadows, her staff giving off an eerie green light. The shadows and light made her pale face seem almost demonic in the gloom. Still she pushed forward, ever forward…

She needed to make sure her cousin would…not be alone in the coming days.

She smiled fiercely, her red mouth looking almost like she was bleeding, or like she had just fed off fresh blood.

They finally arrived at their destination.

Bethany snapped her fingers.

Old Tevinter torches burst to life, green flame pushed back the shadows, revealing an altar…

The Lady smiled.

It was just as the book had described, it an ancient Tevinter focusing temple, allowing a mage to focus all their mana into the smallest of objects.

The location of this place was yet another secret she had learned in the Black Emporium. Really, she did not know why Solona did not spend more time there.

Master Xenon had no shortage of…interesting items.

She stepped up to the altar, the defensive wards blazed bright, sensing that a mage had entered, and sealed the chamber against any who might interfere in the next few minutes.

The two Faithless hissed, but stayed where they were.

Death's Hand at least taught them obedience.

Bethany dipped into a small pouch on her belt, removing the ingredients for her latest…endeavor.

Then she removed the ring she was wearing.

She smiled wickedly.

The small gemstone flickered with red…

…The blood within responding to the magic, or rather, the lyrium within the blood was responding.

Templar blood.

Captain Cullen's blood.

She sat the ring down, and admired her tools.

Then she removed a small scroll from her pouch and spread it out before her.

The language was a bit rocky, but fortunately for her, Brother Alec had taught both her and Solona to translate old Tevinter.

Bethany paused.

What would Alec say about what she was about to do?

He would not be happy with her that was for certain.

Of course, those feelings were gone as quick as they had come.

Regret was not an emotion that she needed.

Her staff had rid her of it…mostly.

She sighed.

"This is for the best," she whispered.

Solona should have her happiness too.

She picked up the ring.

She took a deep breath, and began the spell.

The wards around her flared with magic.

In less than an hour, it was done.

The spell had been cast.

She returned to her estate, tired but pleased.

The hard part was now done.

What came next…?

…would be…much more…interesting.

IOI

From a small hill, not far from where the caravan was supposed to cross, a large group of Faithless waited. Their arms and armor marked them as loyal to Death's Hand, but as far as Bethany Threnhold knew that was just a ruse.

She believed that these creatures were hers body and soul.

She was not quite right about that.

The two that had accompanied her to the altar stood at the head of the group, waiting to begin their attack.

The weaker of the pair sniffed.

"How much longer must we tolerate the woman's orders," it spat.

Their leader sneered.

"Until Lord Death's Hand says otherwise. For now we must do what we must do."

The smaller Faithless snarled.

"She not our true mistress, Lady Neria is; she made us to serve Death's Hand."

The creature hissed.

"You heard her ranting; she wishes to kill the master, to kill Lady Neria!"

"Which is why we serve her," the leader said smiling with rotted teeth, "She is distracted now. Chasing her dark desires let her have her fun."

The leader cackled.

"She will harm her family, and in the end, make them more vulnerable."

The leader put his hand on his subordinate's shoulder.

"Death's Hand is even now making more of us, soon we will be legion! Then when the puppet has served her purpose, when she has killed the shadow, and tore her family apart…

The leader leaned in.

"Then **we** will strike, and **all** will die for Death's Hand."

The smaller creature leered, no doubt liking the idea.

"Let the puppet seduce her prince, let her corrupt her betters," the leader said.

"In the end, all things die for Death's Hand."

The leader stepped aside, he stood before their assembled forces, but a fraction of what would one day burn Kirkwall to the ground.

He raised his sword.

"**DIE FOR DEATH'S HAND!"** he howled.

His fellows all joined him.

Below the caravan appeared in the distance.

The Leader blew the battle horn.

As one…the creatures charged.

As Bethany Threnhold willed them to.

All according to Death's Hand's plan.

The monsters charged and wailed.

The plan…continued.


	17. The Hero of the Day

**Chapter 17: The Hero of the Day**

"**For the Lioness!"**

The call went up from the Viscountess' guard that had accompanied the party, weapons were drawn as the fighting men and women took up their blades and pikes. Some drew back bows, readying themselves to fire a volley, while their more heavy armored brethren formed a defensive square.

They were fighters, each and every one.

The chance to prove it was not something they shied away from, in fact they welcomed it.

They shouted a challenge at the advancing foe.

Let them come; all they would get for their trouble was steel, steel…and death…

…Among these brave warriors stood one of their newest recruits, a young man who had only just been entered into their ranks.

Simon Poole held his pole arm tightly; he had a sword as well, but would use it only if the fighting came too close quartered to use his chosen weapon.

He preferred the longer reach, and most warriors assumed that they had the advantage when they came upon him with their heavy blades, and armor.

The young warrior smiled fiercely.

His heart raced, filled with both fear and anticipation. Yet he did not even think of fleeing. He would never disgrace his family name that way. He would stand. He would keep his honor. He would stand shoulder to shoulder with the brave men and women who had sworn the same oath that he himself had sworn.

They were the finest warriors of Kirkwall. They were the sword and shield of the Viscountess.

Now, at last, they had the chance to prove it.

Simon had only been training with them a short time, but already many here had already won his respect. Few remained from the days before Solona had lost her throne to her brother, but those that did had doubled their efforts to keep their mistress and her family safe. Of the freed Tevinter slave warriors that the Viscountess had won on the road back to her throne only a few remained, but those that did fought with the skill of six.

Simon did not doubt their strength, or their willingness to do what was needed.

He had originally requested this post to be close to his sister, to guarantee her safety, but after training with his fellows. He did not doubt them, they were his comrades. He would fight to the death at their side, just as they would fight beside his. He knew this to be true.

These men were warriors, none could doubt that.

No one here shirked their duty; they were loyal to House Amell and the Viscountess herself. It was to them that Sebastian Vael's life had been entrusted…

…And now they needed to defend it.

Poole had expected the lord to flee, to get the Lady Bethany and himself to safety. He did not do that.

He took his place among the warriors, awaiting the arrival of the enemy.

Simon approved of that, he could respect a man who chose to stand with those who sought his protection. Who was not afraid to take his life into his own hands.

**That**… was a man worthy of following.

The Lord Consort of Kirkwall did not shy from battle; he drew his bow and dismounted from his horse. The fading light of the day turned his ivory colored armor the color of fresh blood.

Sebastian took aim at the horrors clamoring out of their hiding places. Once they had been human, elven and dwarf, now…now they were something else…

Now…they were the Faithless.

The Lord Consort's eyes narrowed.

"Their armor is weak at the neck," he shouted, at his fellow archers, "Target there."

He raised his bow, the rest of the archers followed suit.

Poole dared as glance back at their small caravan. Behind the line, the various advisors and sycophants stayed close to the wagons and coaches. These would no doubt be the first to bolt should the battle turn against the defenders.

A few attempted to enter the Lady Bethany's carriage; her guards turned them away at the points of their blades.

Of the lady herself there was no sign, so much the better, Simon thought.

An untrained noble would just get in the way.

He returned his attention to the approaching horde, a mass of snarling, hissing creatures in wicked looking armor, wielding wicked weapons.

Simon braced himself, his weapon at the ready.

The Lord Consort called out.

The first volley flew, at almost point blank range.

The first of the monsters fell, squealing, but several were not struck mortally, they ignored the pain, and leapt howling like the damned.

They slammed into the defenders.

The battle was joined.

Simon's blade caught one of the Faithless, he pushed forward driving it back into its fellows. The creatures behind his opponent were pushed back, at least for a few seconds.

That was all the time the young warrior needed.

He freed his polearm from his first victim. He swiped the blade back and forth with almost lightning quickness, the ultra-sharpened blade found its target severing misshapen ears and taking at least two heads.

That slowed the Faithless charge, for a few moments any way. The survivors fell back, no doubt to reassess their plan of attack.

The young Poole grinned fiercely.

Let them try that stunt again, he thought.

"**POOLE GET BACK HERE!"**

His commanding officers words cut through his euphoria. Growing up with a chevalier for a father had taught the young warrior the value of orders.

He fell back into line. He dared a quick glance beside him. The men had held the line, several of their number lay dead on the road and in the grass nearby, but for the most part the Faithless had taken the bulk of the damage. Three of them lay dead for every one Kirkwaller.

The monsters snarled, the element of surprise lost, they needed to regroup.

The Kirkwallers readied for a second charge.

They had underestimated their opponents and had paid for it.

Simon doubted that they would make that mistake a second time. They…

The sky turned red, a second sun fell from the heavens.

It fell directly behind the defenders; Simon was blasted off his feet.

The Faithless howled triumphantly.

The monsters surged forward again.

This time they had no trouble breaking through the Kirkwallers' line. Steel met steel. Claw and fang met flesh.

Cries went up from both sides. The Faithless spread out; soldiers were forced to engage in close quarters fighting.

Both man and Faithless died, and still the battle raged.

Screams of fear and pain filled the roadway. Noncombatants scattered. Faithless gave chase.

The Leader of the monsters made for Bethany's carriage, a savage grin on his face, weapon in hand.

It was time to take this little play to the climax. Then it would be time to get out of here, but first.

He would check in on their mistress.

He hoped that she would be pleased. After all, it was his duty to please her, at least…for now.

IOI

Bethany sat in her carriage, her eyes closed, her mind directed outward.

The Faithless were interesting creatures, far more interesting than most people suspected.

Neria Surana had bred them well. Their minds were an open book, especially to one who wielded magic.

A few among the attackers were bound to her staff, that binding gave her the ability to look through their eyes. To observe the fight from the comfort of her carriage, even with the shades drawn.

She had witnessed the failure of the first charge, the death of many of her servants…

It had become necessary to take a more active role in this fight.

_It would not do if it ended too quickly._

_Not until she gave her hero his chance to shine._

The eyes of her servants allowed her to summon that fireball down on the defenders, not enough to kill them, but definitely enough to break their lines and give her Faithless the chance they needed.

She smiled slightly.

They had exploited that chance…perfectly.

She continued to watch. She saw the Faithless leader break through her men. Soon he would be upon her.

Then she saw Sebastian. The very sight made her heart skip nervously.

He continued to use his bow. Nock and release, nock, and release, nock and release, four Faithless fell before they had the chance to even cry out. The fifth managed to reach him, but had no chance to do anything else.

Sebastian drew his dagger. He ducked the monster's blow, and spun with his dagger, its silverite blade bit through the Faithless' armor, slicing the creature from groin to neck.

It fell with barely a gasp.

Inside her coach Bethany shivered.

He was sooo fast!

Warmth spread through her.

Need and desire!

She swallowed hard.

She wanted him.

She needed him.

The Faithless leader tore open the door to her coach.

She slid down to the floor, to all who could see it would look like she was cowering.

The Faithless leader grinned.

"Are you pleased," he hissed.

"Very," she murmured.

The creature cackled and raised his blade.

Bethany smiled then screamed, any who heard it would think her terror was genuine.

It was too easy, she thought.

Far too easy.

IOI

Sebastian gasped in horror, he tried to fight his way through the battle, tried to reach the coach.

The Faithless, larger than the others tore open the door to Bethany's carriage; he raised his wicked blade high.

Bethany shrieked.

He tried to bring up his bow, to save his terrified cousin, but another monster slammed into him, spoiling his aim, his arrow went wide. The creature ripped his bow from his hand.

Sebastian roared. He drove his elbow into the monster's face, smashing its nose, causing it to slump to the ground.

He pushed it out of the way, he howled, trying to get the monster's attention, but even then he knew it was no use. He was unarmed, and outmatched.

The world seemed to slow, tears burned in his eyes.

He had failed.

Bethany was going to die…just as his parents had died, just as his brothers had died.

He could not save them. He could not save anyone!

He was a failure.

"MILORD!"

He saw Simon Poole out of the corner of his eye; the warrior was wounded, but tossed his damaged polearm, even as he drew his sword to engage a Faithless that might have been a Qunari. It was certainly big enough to have been a Qunari…

Sebastian caught the weapon, a polearm was not his weapon of choice, but…he had little choice. There was no way to reach the creature on foot, so he did the only thing he could do.

He drew back his arm, and flung the spear with all his might.

He watched the shaft sail through the air. He fell to his knees and…

IOI

The Faithless leader heard the little man scream, he glanced back as the weapon flew towards him. It was a good throw, impressive really, but nothing he could not dodge.

He tried to move, a cruel sneer on his face.

He could not.

He tried to raise his arm, to block or catch the spear, he could not!

The Faithless' leader's eyes widened.

What? What was…?!

Behind him, he heard the mistress' voice, it sounded pleased…amused.

"Good bye," she giggled.

The Faithless roared.

The spear caught him in the throat. It flung him back into the carriage.

His head fell in Bethany's lap; she stared coldly down upon him.

She was smiling.

Blood leaked from his mouth.

"Wh…WH…?"

"Why," she said with a cruel sneer.

He coughed, trying to nod.

Her eyes sparkled wickedly.

"Because a hero needs to save his damsel," she cooed, "and…he needs to kill the beast to do so."

The Faithless glared at her, he could feel no pain, but even still he knew he was dying.

Rage filled him.

She had betrayed them!

He tried to reach for her.

Bethany gestured.

Force magic constricted the Faithless' neck, the bones cracked and snapped.

Then, it was done.

Bethany heard Sebastian approaching, she let her sense of control slip away, she shrieked, she sliced her hand with a small knife, drawing both blood and tears.

She continued to scream, even when Sebastian pulled the dead monster off of her.

He kneeled before her.

"It is alright now," he said, "You're safe now."

Still she wailed.

He pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, fiercely; he would not release her, not until the screaming stopped.

Not until she was ready to stop.

Not until he was on the way…to being hers.

IOI

Simon Poole rose from the ground, the warrior spat blood, his arm burned from the cut that the Qunari-Faithless had given him.

He held his wounded arm to his side, struggling to raise his sword with his good hand.

Fortunately, it was no longer necessary.

The battle was over.

The Faithless were scattering, the death of their leader had broken their spirit. They ran in every direction, fleeing from the Kirkwall soldiers.

He let out a shuddering breath.

His first real taste of battle, and he had survived, more importantly so had the lord consort. He had done his duty. He was wounded, but he had done it.

He was still shaking, nerves he supposed, but it did not change the fact, he had done it. They had won.

He smiled slightly.

Father would be proud.

"Sound off!"

He heard his commander's voice, so…he had survived the fighting too.

Tough bastard.

"Sound off, who is left?!"

He heard his fellows call out, the Viscountess' guards. Four, then five…then no more!

He shook his head; there had been eight of them here, now there was only…

"Poole!"

He blinked.

"I see you over there! If you can sound off do it!"

"Yes ser," he said quickly, "Sorry ser…I'm here…"

He smiled slightly

"I'm still alive."

IOI

She lay in his arms, her face pressed against his chest, sobbing and whimpering.

Sebastian murmured into her hair, soothing her, his hand stroking her back, comforting her. He… he had never seen Lady Bethany like this, not even when poor Perrin had died.

He stifled a sob.

He had come so close.

He had nearly let another of his family die, but in the end he had done it.

He had saved her.

He had saved her, and he had not needed Solona's magic to do it.

He had done it. He had.

Sebastian Vael.

He had saved her life.

He closed his eyes, enjoying her warmth, the simple smell of her hair.

The way she shivered against him.

The way whimpered in his arms, soft, inviting, in need of his protection.

It was…almost…euphoric.

"Lord Sebastian,"

He turned to see the man Solona had put in charge of their protection.

"Yes," he murmured, still not willing to let go of his poor cousin.

"The enemy has been routed, ser. They are in full retreat. Shall we pursue?"

Sebastian shook his head.

"No," he said, "Let them go. We have wounded to attend to. We must make it to safety, should they return in force."

"Yes, milord," the guard said saluting. He hurried off, eager to obey Sebastian's orders.

That left him with Bethany, his poor cousin shivering in his arms, scared, lost, and alone.

He...he could not let her go.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide and innocent. Tears were running down her cheeks.

"Are…are they gone?" she whimpered.

He nodded.

"Aye, they are gone."

She leaned against him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck.

He did not even try to push her back.

He welcomed her warmth, her need.

He would protect her.

He would protect all of them.

Bethany murmured something against his chest; at first he had not heard it. She had to repeat it once more before he could…

Her words made him blush.

He…it…it was not necessary.

She looked up, her eyes locked upon his.

He could not look away, in fact, he no longer wanted to.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't need to thank me," he cooed.

She smiled softly, and ran her hand down his chest.

She smiled against him.

"My hero," she murmured.

He gently stroked her hair.

She sighed happily.

"My…hero."


	18. The Dog and the Lion

**Chapter 18: The Dog and the Lion**

"So, you deny that you have anything to do with this?"

"Yesss," Daylen Amell hissed through gritted teeth. Even as a child he had hated being roused from a sound sleep, so he was not in the best of moods when a pair of Viscountess' Guards pounded on his door two hours before the dawn, not to be dragged out of his bed and interrogated like a common street thief.

He regarded his accuser without any sign of guilt. After all, he had nothing to hide…

…this time.

Ser Graydon Stark paced before him, his Ferelden armor making him look more like a barbarian then one of the Viscountess' most trusted advisors. His well-kept black hair and trimmed beard were the only sign of the fact the man was one of the high lords of this city. The knight showed no sign of fatigue, the fact that he was here meant he had not gone to bed yet, or had retired early and rose early because of it.

Daylen resisted the urge to smirk.

He could think of only one reason that a man **might** turn in early, considering that Stark had a certain former pirate turned Qunari living with him…well…

The young lord was not surprised that the man had more than ample reasons to find his way to his bed more often than not, not with such a woman in the house. Still, he said nothing about that of course, oh no…

_He had no desire to provoke the knight's ire more than he already had._

Lord Sebastian and Lady Bethany had managed to reach the safety of Starkhaven, but the trip had not been without problems. A week and a half ago, the Faithless had attempted a raid against Sebastian's caravan, it had failed, but…lives had been lost. Word could have reached Kirkwall much sooner, but Sebastian had chosen to push on towards his former home as quick as he could. Once they had reached the city, Prince Goran had dispatched people to check out the sight of the battle, see if there was any evidence remaining of where the Faithless had come from, of course, he had found nothing, only the bodies of the Kirkwall dead. Some might have said that the lord consort had wasted an opportunity to deal with another of Kirkwall's enemies, that he should have remained and tracked the Faithless back to their hole. Instead, he had chosen to protect the wounded and the rest of those under his command. Not at all surprising, given the man's history.

Daylen might not have made such a choice himself, but he understood why, what bothered him more had been the ambush. It seemed a little too…simple minded for the Faithless. The act of fools doomed to fail, which made no sense at all to him. He **knew** the Faithless.

The creatures were not made to be fools; they were created to be the perfect ruthless servants.

_So the question was…who were they serving now? _

That bothered the young lord a little. The faithless were not the type to turn bandit. If this had been some new push by Neria or Quill why had it failed? Neither of his old allies was in the habit of wasting soldiers when there was little value at stake. Had they managed to take Sebastian hostage, that would have been one thing, but an attack based entirely around mayhem…that…that didn't make any sense…

He shook his head.

The whole thing stank. Quill was too smart to pull a stunt like this, and if Neria had done it, there would have been signs of Blood magic at the scene. If it **had** been an attempt to grab Bethany and or Sebastian, why had Quill or Neria not been there? The Faithless worked best when kept on a tight leash, but from what he had heard around the keep, no one had seen either Neria or Quill in months.

That fact alone was troubling enough, but now, with this new attack. His sister had very few suspects to blame, save one…

He had suspected that Solona would come and speak to him about this, or send one of her agents.

She had elected to do the latter, apparently.

_Wasn't that nice?_

It was not hard to imagine why Stark and his allies were here. Daylen knew that he was the most likely suspect when it came to the Faithless, his sister knew that.

Now she had sent her attack dog to extract a confession from him, alas he was not going to get it.

Daylen was innocent.

He had nothing to do with that attack.

He smiled slightly.

"Please, use your sense of reason, Lord Stark," he began, "What would be my motive to mastermind such attack? What would I gain? I'm still my sister's prisoner."

Stark glared at him.

"Vengeance," he said, "You tried to have Lord Sebastian killed in a similar fashion years ago, did you not?"

He almost did not answer the knight's question. He should not have had to. Everyone in Kirkwall knew his history. He had to say, Stark had…little in the way of imagination. That was not surprising of course; the man was an attack dog, not a commander. He understood implementing battle plans, but not the subtleties of them.

He was no lion after all, that was for sure, unlike Solona and himself, Stark would never truly understand the art of rule that was good, for Solona anyway.

"Yes," Daylen admitted, "I did try to have dear Sebastian…_removed_ once. At that time, I was consumed by my plans to replace my sister as ruler of this city. Removing her husband before he could give her an heir was a necessary part of that plan."

The young lord sighed.

"That point is moot now. My sister **has **children, and I have sworn fealty to her. It would be against my sense of noble honor to break such an oath."

Stark snorted, clearly he had his own opinions on Daylen's sense of honor.

The young lord frowned, but did not rise to the bait. There had been a time though, at that time, he would have answered such an insult by removing Stark's face with his claws. Now, he was much smarter, more civilize.

If Stark pushed him, he would find out just how dangerous a man that had made Daylen Amell provided he survived that lesson.

The thought of such revenge warmed Daylen's heart, but he quickly let that feeling go.

Now was not the time to indulge in vengeful fantasies.

He needed to be smart.

"Let me put this _another_ way," he sighed, "Why would I risk such a thing while I'm my sister's prisoner. I don't need to remind you that one word from dear Lona, and I will become a head shorter."

The young lord shook his head.

"I'm many things, Lord Stark, not all of them good, but what I am not, is suicidal."

Daylen sighed.

"Where is my sister? If I could explain what I'm saying to her, perhaps then I…"

Stark frowned.

"The Viscountess is indisposed," he said flatly, "I'm sure she will speak with you soon, but for now, you will be dealing with me."

Daylen fought down a desire to respond as sarcastically as possible.

_He was working with Stark now?_

_Oh joy!_

Of course, a small alarm bell went off in the back of his mind. His sister was too busy to see him? That did not make sense. What could she be doing right now that that required Stark here, and if he was not mistaken, Stark sounded a little bit…disappointed…irritated at being sent here? What was up with that?

Stark was loyal to a fault to his sister. Had she done something to change that? Had she…disappointed him somehow, or was he simply reading too much into this?

It was possible he supposed.

He pursed his lips.

It might be a good idea to find out, but for now he needed to focus on his interrogator. He did not need Stark to leave here believing he had something to do with the attack on the Lord Consort's caravan. He had not.

Daylen frowned.

He did not like being accused of something he had not done! The fact that Lona now expected him to work with Stark directly was even worse, it was almost intolerable.

He was still an Amell damn it. He deserved some small amount of respect. Lona should have come herself, not sent her pet dog lord!

He did not like that, no, he did not like that at all. At some small level he still hated the Fereldan. He had been one of the people that had first motivated his sister to take back her crown, he and the Qunari bitch. Daylen may have surrendered, but that did not mean he had completely forgiven those who had taken everything he had worked for away from him.

He clenched his remaining hand.

No, he did not like Stark at all, not one bit.

"Well," Daylen continued, "If we are to be working together, is it possible to get a report on where we stand with the whole Orlesian thing. Has my sister received any word from the letters I sent out?"

Stark straightened.

"We have received one letter," he said.

Daylen paused.

Stark stood rigid, almost at attention for a soldier.

Daylen glared at him.

"May I see it…_please_?"

The soldier glared back. For a moment it seemed that he was not going to give Daylen the report Solona had received, but finally, he relented.

He handed him the latest note from Ostwick.

Daylen nodded and opened it up; with any luck his agents would have good news for him.

It was almost time to proceed to the next phase of the plan.

Provided Stark would play along of course.

Once he had finished, he smiled at the soldier.

"I think my sister will be pleased," he said.

Stark just glared at him.

Daylen rolled his eyes.

He could already tell…

…this was going to work out so very well.

IOI

Gray said nothing; he had no desire to acknowledge the young noble's glee.

As far as he was concerned, Daylen Amell should have been hanged years ago for his crimes, not defended, and not consulted in how best to remove Baron Lafaille from Ostwick.

As far as he was concerned, Death's Hand was a mad dog, he might have been behaving himself right now, but how long would that last?

How long before he decided to bite the hand that fed him?

The soldier had to resist the urge to wipe that smirk off the young man's face.

Still…he would not act against his lady, not again. Solona had once again taken him into her inner circle.

He could not, and would not, abuse her trust again.

Death's Hand put down the letter, he seemed more than pleased. Solona had read it last night, before she ever agreed to show it to her brother. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Daylen's allies were eager to see Baron Lafaille brought down, and now that they had assurances that Kirkwall would protect them, they were ready to proceed.

Though happy with the news, Solona had still chosen to retire early for the night. The Viscountess had been…under the weather for the last few days. She looked tired, haggard even. The servants said they had heard her moaning in her sleeping, murmuring and sighing.

According to one of her maids, the Viscountess had barely slept since the Lord Consort had left. Gray had tried to speak to her about it, but she claimed it was just nerves. That last time Sebastian had left her side, she had nearly lost her crown.

Now she found herself alone again.

Both he and Hawke had tried to console her. This was nothing like before. Daylen was imprisoned and she had the children to keep her company. No one was trying to hurt her; even the Templars had relaxed their grip the last few days, making things not so tense around the keep.

Solona had smiled, and agreed with them. She promised to try and get some rest, which was another reason why Gray was here right now.

The letter from Starkhaven had arrived just after midnight; Stark had been in the keep, playing cards with Varric, who, as Hand, had had the letter brought straight to his office.

The two of them had agreed to let Stark speak with Daylen before the dawn, to catch him off guard.

Stark hated to admit it, but he was disappointed with the results.

He believed the young noble when he said he had nothing to do with the attack on Lord Sebastian's caravan. Daylen Amell might have been a skilled liar, but Stark's gut kept telling him the young man was telling the truth. It would have been foolish to attack the Lord Consort while he was only one word away from having his head removed by his angry sister.

No, Stark did not believe that Daylen was responsible, which of course led to another question.

_If not him, then who?_

Daylen gave him that sly smile of his.

Just seeing that look on the noble's face put Gray on edge; he tried not to focus on his dislike for the noble, but…

This was not just about duty, he realized.

This was more than personal, especially for him.

Several times a week, Naishe would awake screaming. Her golden eyes wide with panic, Stark would do what he could to sooth his lover, but seeing her like that, the pain in her eyes.

It cut him deeper than any sword.

She had no real memory of what had happened to her in the Qunari compound. The Qunari re-educators had taken those memories when they gave her a new life and purpose. Every once and a while, some of those lost memories would bubble up as nightmares.

Gray was powerless to protect his love from them.

One thing he knew to be true. Daylen Amell had given Naishe over to the Qunari. It was because of him that they had been able to hurt her. It was because of him that she still suffered so. Given a chance, he would have avenged her, made the noble bastard pay for what he had set in motion.

He tried not to think about that, to focus on his duty.

It was not a perfect solution, but nothing was perfect, was it?

Daylen smirked at him.

"My agents are ready," he said, "Now all they need is the name of your noble ally in Ostwick. Once they have touched base with him, we can finally get things rolling."

Gray nodded.

"I will inform the Viscountess," he said, "She can send the response tomorrow. The sooner we get this done, the better."

"Agreed," the noble nodded, "My only question is, can my sister's contact be trusted? If they lead my agents into a trap, we will never get another shot at this."

"You need not worry about that," Stark said, "The lady in charge can be trusted. She has even provided us with a willing hostage, as proof that she is willing to do what needs to be done."

Daylen's smile widened.

"Really," he purred, "How nice of her."

He leaned forward.

"Tell me Lord Stark, how is Lady Trevelyan these days?"

Stark froze. He cursed himself for a fool.

He had been stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

STUPID!

The keep despite its size was still a relatively small place, of course Daylen would have heard about Lady Anastasia staying here, with that information, it was not surprising that he had put one and one together.

Stark's expression turned grim.

That only seemed to further amuse Daylen.

The noble chuckled.

"You're silence speaks volumes, Lord Stark," he purred, "You know, when I heard that a Trevelyan was living here in the keep, I expected it to be some low level cousin of the Bann, but that isn't the case is it? It is one of the Bann's own children, isn't it?"

Stark did not answer, but once again he did not need to. He had always been a terrible liar. He had only been able to hide what was going on with Bethany, because he had not known the full plan, and that the Viscountess had never asked him directly about it.

He again cursed himself for being a fool.

He had underestimated, Daylen.

He would not do so again.

IOI

Daylen leaned back in his chair, more than pleased with himself.

So Bann Aliza was Solona's contact in Ostwick, how interesting.

"How is the Bann's heir enjoying life at court?" he asked, "Lady Elizabeth always seemed…too proud to serve as a simple handmaiden?"

Stark glared at him.

"The Bann has sent her youngest," he said, realizing that there was no point in denying the truth.

"The Lady Anastasia is here as our guest."

That news made him pause, for a moment he was left speechless.

It was not something that happened often.

Stark picked up on that immediately.

"Is something wrong, Milord?"

Much of the amusement Daylen had felt earlier faded away.

He had never expected the Bann had it in her to stand up to her own Teyrn, now…she had sent her youngest here!

He frowned.

Given what had happened in the past that was not the best of ideas.

He wondered if Solona realized what she had done? If she even knew what she had allowed into the keep?

It was something he would have to discuss with her later.

"Is there a problem, Milord?"

Daylen turned back to Stark, his smile returned, but was no longer so jovial.

"My sister needs to be careful," he said, "The Trevelyans are not to be underestimated."

Stark frowned at what he had said.

"Is there any bad blood between the Amells and the Trevelyans?"

"No," Daylen sighed; he paused, trying to think of a good way to phrase what he wanted to say. No words seem to fit right.

Finally, he sighed.

"There was a time," he began, that the Trevelyans were welcome guests within these halls. They respected House Amell, and what father had accomplished."

The young lord shook his head.

"Then…everything changed."

Daylen chuckled again.

"There is no bad blood between our two houses," he said, "But there is a great deal of history, rumor, and innuendo, none that are mentioned in polite conversation anymore."

Stark gave him a look, clearly his curiosity had been peaked, but Daylen had no longer any desire to feed it.

He yawned.

"It is far too early to discuss such things, Lord Stark," he said stretching, "Perhaps we can discuss this in the morning."

"Why not now?" the Fereldan asked.

"Because it concerns my sister too," he said, "Some of it might be painful for her to hear, I leave it up to you to decide if she needs to hear it, or that she should remain oblivious, both have their advantages, believe me."

Stark's brow furrowed.

"If this is some great secret, then why does the Viscountess not know it?"

"Because she did not grow up in the keep," Daylen replied, "I did. I heard things I should not have, even as a boy."

He shook his head again.

"Some history, is better left forgotten, Lord Stark."

The soldier said nothing, but Daylen could almost imagine the wheels turning inside his head.

No doubt the man was trying to decide what was best.

Finally, he sighed.

"We will discuss this again, Milord," he warned, "For now; I think I will return home, Naishe is no doubt waiting for me."

"No doubt," Daylen said, "Give her all my best will you?"

Stark gave him a dirty look and fled the room. Daylen chuckled, not above enjoying the fact that he had scored a hit on Solona's attack dog.

Still…there was the matter of the Trevelyans, and what Solona knew about what had happened in the keep all those years ago.

Daylen sighed, and returned to his bed, pulling the covers up around him.

He stared up at the canopy, thinking about the past, and what was no longer spoken of.

He also found himself thinking about his sister.

What would she do if she found out?

Would it hurt their plan?

Perhaps it would be better if she did not hear about it, not until everything was all said and done.

Daylen sighed, he was now wide awake. If sleep came it would not be quick.

Lucky me, he thought.

He wondered if Solona was asleep right now, or was she still wandering the keep somewhere, waiting for Stark's report.

He personally hoped it was the former. He knew the stresses of being Viscount.

He hoped that his sister could find some release.

After everything that she had faced and what was to come.

She would need it.

…Every last moment.

That was all that mattered in the end he knew.

Release.

IOI

Solona was not in apartment. She was not even in the company of her guards. She had slipped away from the royal wing, using the back stairs usually reserved for the servants.

She stood in one of the many guest rooms, dressed only in a gauzy nightgown. She paced like a caged lion, unable to contain the nervous energy running through her.

Her heart pounded, her blood raced. It was all she could do to keep her powers in check, she…she had not felt this way in such a long time…so…so…uncertain.

She paused glancing at the door.

Where was he, she thought, surely he would come?

She took a shuddering breath.

Every candle in the room blazed brighter.

She cursed and pushed the magic burning in her back.

Now was not the time for such displays, not here.

Not…when he was coming.

She continued pacing, her bare feet making no sound on the soft carpet.

She once again glanced at the door; her blue eyes were bright, almost glowing with anticipation.

Not long now, she thought, soon, soon.

She took another shuddering breath.

Oh Maker, it needed to be soon.

She had retired early; hoping to find rest, alas there had been no escape.

The dream had come, just as it had every night over the last week.

She shook her head.

As a mage she understood the value of dreams, their strength.

She…she had denied this one as long as she could, as long as she had been able, but now…now…

Now…she no longer wanted to deny it.

What she wanted most of all was release, and she could find it only way.

They could only find it one way.

She heard the sound of boot steps in the hall, yet she did not move. Many had passed by since she had first come here an hour ago, too many. Servants, Templars, or guards, they all had passed by, unaware of what their mistress was going through.

Unaware of her need.

Her skin burned, her heart pounded. Her breathing came in excited gasped.

The sound of boots stopped.

She shivered.

They had stopped outside her room.

She swallowed hard.

There was a soft knock on the door.

She smiled nervously.

He was here, she almost squealed.

He was here.

"Enter," she cooed in husky voice.

The door opened.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He stood before her, looking at her as he never had before…

No…that was not true.

He had looked at her that way, before, but only in the dream.

Her smile widened.

Only in the dream.

"Your Excellency," he murmured, almost as overcome as she.

She looked down demurely.

"Knight-Captain," she purred.

Knight-Captain Cullen stood before her. No doubt drawn by the same forces that had drawn her.

He…she…they…

She shuddered.

He was blushing, but he could not take his eyes off her.

"I…I had to come," he said almost panting.

She gave him a hungry look.

"I know," she growled.

They said nothing else.

There was nothing else to say.

She came forward, and he backed away, not much, just a step.

He closed the door, locking it behind them.

They stared at each other, their noses touching, their fingers grasping.

Solona whimpered.

She…she could take it no longer!

He seized her in his arms, their mouths crashed together.

The Templar threw down his gauntlets eager to feel her with his own hands.

Solona gestured,

The candles around them went out, plunging the two into darkness, leaving them with nothing but their passions.

Neither tried to resist.

They no longer wanted to.

There was only them, and the darkness.

Cullen whimpered as she moaned softly against him…

…A moan not of pain but of relief, sweet relief.

In that moment, they had found it, what had been eluding them all this week.

She sighed.

Freedom at last.

_Freedom…and…_

Cullen gasped.

_Release._


	19. Mark of the Enemy

**Chapter 19: The Mark of the Enemy**

Guilt.

It was not something that Lona had much experience with. Yes, she had done things in the past that haunted her. She still wondered if she could have done something different, or perhaps done more. Certainly she recognized that every leader in Thedas had at least some form of regret; it was part of being alive, part of the game, as it were.

The Viscountess shuddered.

What she felt now…was something far worse.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth, trying to make sense of what had happened. The need, the burning…hunger that had swallowed her had faded into a dull ache, but alas, still remained…

She…she could still imagine Cullen's hands on her, his lips pressed against hers, the heat as they…

She swallowed hard, the flame on every torch and candle in the keep rose a little higher. Her skin tingled with barely contained magic; it tingled in a way it had not tingled in years. She was excited…excited and…and…

She noticed one of the Templars watching her that was enough to bring her back to reality.

She willed the flames to lower, but that did nothing for the heat inside her belly. The Templars either did not notice the magic she was expending or they did not care.

Either option brought her comfort. She…she could not stop thinking about it, about Cullen. That hunger…that gnawing need.

It was a one-time thing, she thought, curiosity has been sated, now…it was back to reality. They had both wanted what happened, but now…they needed to face facts. They were who they were.

She tried to focus on that, but…

She pursed her lips.

But…

…It…it did nothing to erase what she had done, and the horrible realization that she wanted more.

She shivered.

It could not change the fact that she wanted to do it _again._

She made her way down the corridors, past servants, guards, and Templars. Gray had something he wanted her to see. None of the Templars gave her a second glance, they had perhaps become…complacent with their duties.

It was a complacency that would no doubt fade if they knew what their Knight-Captain had done with the Viscountess.

Even now…the mere thought brought a blush to her cheeks.

"Are you feeling okay, Your Excellency?"

"I'm fine dear," she said, "Just…a little tired."

Ana gave her a gentle grin.

"How you can sleep at all in this place is beyond me," she said shaking her head, "Templars, nobles, mages…especially the nobles shouting in your ear every day."

The Viscountess almost chuckled.

"You try to ignore it," she said.

"Does it work?" Ana asked her.

Solona snorted with amusement.

"No…not really," she replied.

The girl might have giggled.

"Didn't think so," she said.

Lona tried to smile, she was grateful for Ana Trevelyan's concern, though it was not needed. If anything it was the girl that should have been troubled, forced to stay in a foreign city so far away from the rest of her family, and then there were the rumors that her father had fallen ill, and that healers feared for his life.

No, it was not an easy thing that had been asked of the girl. Here she was, fourteen years old and already on her own, given her own history having been fostered in foreign lands, Solona more than understood.

At first the Viscountess had feared that the girl would have trouble adapting to life in the keep. That she would not be able to make the transition to from noble daughter to lady of the court. Cousin Garrett and Aveline had taken a shine to her though, helping her through those first months, which must have been far more than difficult.

Lady Trevelyan had sent a letter shortly after her daughter's arrival, it had warned the Viscountess of the girl's…wild tendencies. She resisted what was expected of her, and had taken up the sword and shield as a form of rebellion.

Lady Aliza hoped that Solona might break the girl of such habits, prepare her for her life in the chantry, which was likely more and more certain as time went on.

So the Viscountess had watched, expecting to see the rebellion that the Trevelyan matriarch had warned her against.

So far, that had not been a problem. Ana had performed her duties tirelessly, and with no complaint. Even Izzy was pleased with the girl's progress.

Which, considering how fast the Lady Poole had risen amongst her ladies, that said a lot indeed.

Izzy had proven herself invaluable over these last few months. Even now she was out of the keep, attending to an errand for her mistress. At first her appointment had only been about keeping an eye on her, watching her family, but the girl had gone way past that. Lona saw something in her, something she did her best to bring to the surface.

Loyalty, honor, a willing heart: Izzy Poole had all these things. The fact that her brother had fought hard in defense of her husband was yet another feather in the cap of House Poole. Henri Poole and his children had done nothing to make her think that they were anything but what they claimed to be, a family looking to start over.

Simon Poole had proven himself as well, she had read the reports of the battle, even his commanders were impressed. Sebastian had been impressed…he…he…

Sebastian.

Again Solona had to find the urge to whimper.

Sebastian…she…she…

Oh Maker!

What was she going to tell her husband?

How could she expect him to understand, when she did not entirely understand it herself. She had never been the type to give in to wild flings.

She…she would have to tell him about it, soon, before she lost her will, but at the same time, she also needed to stay focused on the job in hand.

Solona shook her head; there would be time for dealing with her personal problems later, now…she had business to attend to.

Royal business.

For now she had to keep her secret hidden, and when the time came she would deal with the consequences…

…Whatever those might be.

IOI

The group assembled in the room where Varric met with the rest of his council, of course today the Lord Hand had not taken his seat at the head of the table. Varric no doubt recognized that what they were about to discuss was a matter of war.

And in those matters he yielded to the last remaining Shield of Kirkwall.

Though Stark preferred not to use that title anymore, considering what had happened to Ser Avery Howell, it no longer seemed the compliment it once was.

The Viscountess nodded to the others in attendance: Garrett Hawke, Aveline, Naishe, and several of Kirkwall's most famous armorers and blacksmiths. The last group had come at Stark's request.

He wanted them to get a look at the prize the Viscountess' men had found.

Solona looked down at the table, at the ugly bits of armor and weapons sat before them. Stark's men had only just returned from where the Faithless had attacked Sebastian and Bethany's caravan. The bodies of the monsters had been burned, but the group had managed to salvage at least some remnant of the Faithless' armor and weapons…

…Remnants that Lord Stark hoped to use to their advantage.

"Now that we have taken steps towards dealing with Baron Lafaille," the Ferelden Knight began, "The time has come to make sure that both Neria Surana, and this…Lord Quill were also brought to heel."

Varric picked up a wicked looking dagger; he turned it over in his hand, inspecting the hilt and blade.

The dwarf sighed.

"I suppose you have a plan on that point, Dog Boy?" he said.

Stark grimaced at Varric's nickname for him, but chose to let it pass.

By now…he was used to the Hand's use of such titles. It was just the way the dwarf related to people.

It was just something that one had to accept.

"The beginnings of one at least," he said looking at Solona.

"With your permission, Your Excellency."

Solona gave him a tired nod, which the Ferelden returned, and only just managed to keep from inquiring what was going on with her. Stark hated to admit it, but the Viscountess did not look well, she seemed haggard, her eyes were darkened from lack of sleep.

It was probably because she was worried about her husband, or the fact she had to care for three young children while still trying to hold the city together. Any of those things were bound to leave a person exhausted.

He promised himself to speak to her when they were done, or at least have Naishe do it. The Viscountess trusted them both, what they had done together after she had been deposed the last time united them in a way that went beyond mere loyalty.

He recognized that that link was likely needed now, more than ever, but for now, he put that out of his mind.

He still had a briefing to complete.

"Lord Sebastian's guards were not able to follow the Faithless that escaped the battle," he continued, "The welfare of the wounded took precedence, since that time, we dispatched several hunters to the area try to figure out where the Faithless came from, but they lost the trail not far from where the battle took place."

"The weather, I suspect," Aveline inquired.

"That was part of the problem yes," Gray agreed, "But even then…the hunters should have picked up something of the trail."

Naishe's golden eyes narrowed.

"Did the hunters find any trace of wagons or horses?"

"Once again, no," Stark sighed, "The Faithless had to have injured among them, and yet the monsters still managed to make good their escape."

"Did your hunters find any bodies," Hawke asked, "Ones that had managed to drag themselves away from the fight?"

"They found no bodies, and a recent rainstorm likely erased any fallen blood from the trail."

The Viscountess sighed.

"So it was all for nothing," she grumbled.

Stark gave her a sly look.

"Not…entirely," he said.

He called over one of the blacksmiths, a dwarf with little or no eyebrows left, and hands burned from long hours in the forges.

He handed the smith one of the Faithless' shoulder pauldrons.

"What do you make of this, Serah?" he inquired.

The dwarf turned the piece of armor over, he muttered under his breath as he inspected it. The scorch marks showed that its wearer had likely been burned in a quick funeral pyre, but enough of what the piece had been still remained.

Finally, he looked up at the Viscountess.

"Dwarven made," he said flatly.

Solona gave him an arched look.

"Not surprising," she said, "But it doesn't look like stock armor either, something that the Faithless stole."

The dwarf chuckled.

"Good eyes, lassie," he said, "No…I suspect that this was the farthest thing from stock armor. Made fast but sturdy, decent iron too, not the common garbage some surfacer smith's call adequate."

The dwarf sat down the pauldrons and picked up the blade, he turned it over in his hands, examining it. Finally, he smiled slightly.

"Here we are," he purred.

He handed the blade to the Viscountess, who took the blackened piece of metal. The blade remained sharp despite the damage it had taken; its edges still had bite, once again hinting at a dwarven origin.

Lona turned it over in her hand.

"Do you see it?" the dwarf asked.

The Viscountess tried to look closer; she saw only a blade, some decoration on the hilt, but nothing that stood out.

She shook her head no.

"At the base of the blade," the dwarf added, "To the untrained eye it looks like someone made a mistake while fashioning the hilt, but look closer, tell me what you see?"

She did what the smith said, she found the markings, small and ugly, no doubt who ever made the blade had made a mistake, but ...but…

Lona looked closer.

A hint of a smile played over her lips.

"A rune?" she said.

The smith smirked. He even clapped a bit.

"Very good lass, very good indeed," he purred.

Now Lona did smile.

It wasn't just a random mark; she had done enough business with the dwarven merchant's guild over the years. She knew a dwarven rune when she saw one, even if it was done so messily it was likely missed. She certainly would not have noticed it if the smith hadn't pointed it out.

She almost chuckled.

Perhaps this attack would bear fruit after all.

"Do you recognize it?" she asked the smith, as she handed him back the blade.

He frowned down at it.

"No," he said, "but it does look familiar, family sigil maybe, or perhaps the mark of a thaig, maybe smith who made this wanted to sign his work."

Stark glanced at Solona.

"Or perhaps was trying to tell someone where it was made?"

The smith shrugged.

"Could be," he said, "Lot of dwarven families doing smith work up here, maybe these Faithless things kidnapped some, forced them to make weapons?"

Aveline crossed her arms.

"That might be how they disappeared," she suggested, "The area around those trade routes are pretty rocky."

Naishe gave her an evil smirk.

"You think the monsters fled into the deep roads? How appropriate."

The guard captain frowned.

"Or it could also be part of a trap," she said, "A lure to draw our forces in. Death's Hand has played that card in the past."

Solona nodded again.

"True," the Viscountess said, "But Daylen isn't leading the Faithless anymore is he, and no one has seen Neria Surana in months. This Quill, the man Daylen chose as his hand, we really don't know how smart he is."

The Viscountess tapped her lips.

"Still…it would not hurt to ask him about the mark, he might recognize it, give us at least a starting place to look.

Varric winced.

"Your brother isn't exactly the most trustworthy source, Your Highnessness."

"True," she shrugged, "but at the same time…he has not lied to us once since his surrender. It could not hurt to ask."

Garrett gave her a concerned look.

"We might have another problem, Cousin," the Champion said.

Solona looked up at him.

Hawke sighed heavily.

"If the Faithless **are** using the deep roads, then that might mean big trouble, if there are enough of them to keep the darkspawn at bay. Who is to say they don't have enough of them left to attack the city."

"We don't know really how many they are," Aveline brought up, "No one has seen Surana in months, if they did need her to create them…"

"My point exactly," Hawke added, "They could have **an army** down there, and we would not know about it until it was too late."

Stark frowned, he had not thought of that. It was a concern to be sure, one likely shared by the Viscountess.

She looked down at the armor, no doubt trying to imagine what an army of these creatures, so armed, might do to Kirkwall if they managed to breach the city?

Stark who had faced the Faithless in battle, could imagine what would happen.

He would rather that his new home not find out what the Faithless could do first hand.

Varric glanced over at Solona.

"We should let our smith friends inspect this stuff much closer, Your Highnessness," he advised, "Meanwhile I will put my contacts to work on that rune, see if anyone in the guild recognizes it."

The dwarf smiled slyly.

"Who knows, it might lead us where we need to go."

The Viscountess nodded, no doubt seeing the merit of the idea.

Hawke, however, was not so enthused.

"Make sure that your contacts keep this quiet, Varric," he said, "We would not want to alert our quarry that we might have a way to find them."

Varric gave his old friend a wounded look.

"Hawke, you wound me," he said, "I know how far I can trust my people, and I know who to keep out of the loop when I want a secret kept.

Stark looked over at the smith and armorer.

"You will both be paid well to keep this matter private," he advised, "I don't think I have to say what will happen if you don't."

The two dwarves chuckled.

"We know when to keep our mouths shut human," the smith replied, "Besides, if some of our brothers are trapped below ground, we owe it to 'em to see 'em sprung."

Stark nodded, pleased by their answer, that of course did not mean that he would not have someone watch them…just in case.

He had learned the value of not trusting so completely.

IOI

The group was just getting ready to adjourn when there was a knock at the door. Everyone paused and looked up.

The Viscountess frowned.

She had given orders they were not to be disturbed.

"Come," Solona called out.

A breathless elven page rushed into the room. He bowed quickly before the Viscountess.

"Your Excellency," he gasped, "Your Excellency, you must come at once."

Solona felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

_Oh Maker!_

_What now!_

"There has been an attack in the Hightown market," the servant weased.

Behind her, Ana gasped.

"Mages?" the Viscountess asked.

"The Guard is not sure yet, things are very confused."

Aveline pushed past them, as Guard Captain it fell on her to investigate this matter, to get to the bottom of it.

"Have there been any casualties?" Hawke inquired.

"There are wounded," the elf managed to gasp, "Among them were members of the keep's servants, several of the Viscountess' ladies as well."

Solona felt the bile rise in her throat.

Maker no, she thought.

Izzy!

She rushed down the corridor, with Ana Trevelyan close at her heels.

The Viscountess' eyes narrowed.

So much for the Templars vaunted security.

She felt her temper starting to flare.

If any of her people were injured, she would have words with Knight-Commander Meredith. The woman had promised to keep things secure, if she had allowed this to happen for some personal gain…?

…If she had, the Jackal would answer for it.

She would answer, most heavily.


	20. Poor Unfortunate Soul

**Chapter 20: Poor Unfortunate Soul**

"I'm fine Papa, truly."

Henri Poole snorted like an angry horse, the old soldier may have lost a leg, but that did not mean that he could not move quickly. No sooner had Izzy been found and brought back to the keep, the former chevalier stormed through the entrance demanding to speak with his daughter.

Solona and Aveline kept their distance. The old man was furious that his daughter had been caught up in such a brazen attack. The guards were still investigating, but…

It still did not look good for the Viscountess' office.

One person dead, seven other people injured three in the attack itself, and the rest from nearly being trampled when the panic began. So far no one knew really what had happened. It had been a typical afternoon in the market, and then…**boom!**

_Chaos._

People screaming, stalls catching fire, while the wounded twitched uncontrollably on the ground, those wearing armor apparently got it worse. Electricity conducted through both blade and breastplate.

In the midst of the panic Esmerelda Poole had gotten separated from her fellow ladies and the bodyguards assigned to protect them. She had run, or been chased, no one could say for certain. They had searched for almost ten minutes after the attack to no avail. Finally, one of the first guardsmen on the scene found her unconscious in one of the alleys just off the market place. They had managed to wake her, but she seemed…confused, murmuring nonsense and unable to walk. It was then that one of the bodyguards took charge; the man carried her back to the keep, hoping that the Viscountess' magic might help the poor girl.

Solona had come at once, but as it turns out it was unnecessary. Izzy seemed to be fine by the time she had reached her.

Solona frowned.

She would have preferred that she herself inform Lord Poole what had happened, she owed the man that much, however she had underestimated the speed of the rumor mill here in Hightown.

The man had likely heard before his daughter had even reached the keep.

It was no surprise that he stormed over after that.

Nor was it a surprise that he was so angry.

Izzy lay on a small loveseat in one of the guest rooms of the keep. She seemed uninjured except for the small bump on her head. If anything she was more worried about her gown then her own injuries. Her pink dress was dirty and torn in some places but otherwise salvageable. Ana had promised to help her fix it.

Izzy's father had glared at the girl, and demanded that Solona remove her from the room.

The Viscountess obeyed, not wishing to antagonize the lord any further. Ana left without a word, no doubt understanding how bad this could be for her mistress.

Poole turned from his daughter side and glared at the Viscountess. He had only been in Kirkwall a short time, but in such a small span he had proven to be quite formidable. Though he been a soldier in his youth it was clear that he had completely ignored the intricacies of business that had made his family so powerful over the years. He might not have been his elder brother Gaston, but that did not mean he was a fool.

Solona frowned.

Gaston Poole had been her enemy. He had allied with her brother during his brief tenure as Viscount, marrying his daughter to Daylen, and even climbing so high as to be declared Seneschal of the Viscount's keep. It was under Gaston Poole that the city of chains had entered its darkest period since the reign of the Threnhold dynasty. When Solona had defeated Daylen, Poole along with several others of her brother's fellow conspirators had been put to death, hanged in the square like the thieves they were. Henri had come to Kirkwall a few months later, eager to take over his family's business interests and make a new life for him and his children.

Solona respected that, even though she had every reason to hate the man, and his entirely family.

My daughter could have been killed," he snarled.

"She wasn't," the Viscountess replied.

"Is that supposed to make it better!" he growled.

The Viscountess' eyes narrowed.

Izzy gave him a worried look.

"Papa, no," she whimpered.

"No? No what, Izzy? You could have been killed! You could have been…"

She reached out and touched his hand, her eyes large and pleading.

He looked down on her, some of his anger faded when he saw the fear in her eyes.

"Please," she begged.

His daughter's impassioned plea had the desired effect, Lord Henri calmed down, before he said something that everyone would regret.

Solona stood up straighter. She accepted the fact that the man was angry, but he still needed to remember his place.

She understood the man's fear, she was a parent herself after all, but that did not give him the right to snarl at his Viscountess like she was a common dog.

They would never be friends, she knew that. Too much blood had passed between the Pooles and the Amells to ever be true friendship there.

This city was still hers after all.

"What happened out there," he growled, "You promised that my little girl would be safe."

The Viscountess gave him a chagrinned look.

"I have no excuse for you, Lord Poole; this attack was as surprising as it was cowardly."

Again the man snorted.

"An empty platitude, Your Excellency," he snapped, "I doubt that it will bring any comfort to the victims of todays…incident."

It was at that moment that Aveline finally stepped forward, she had only just returned from the scene when Esmerelda finally awoke.

It was rare that the guard captain stepped in to defend the Viscountess, after what Solona had endured, she did not think she really needed to, still, she no doubt understood any friction between the Amells and House Poole could be trouble.

She now had no choice but to intervene.

"An incident that is now under investigation, Milord, my guardsmen are already combing the market, looking for any clue of who might have been behind this."

He met her even gaze with a cool look of his own.

"The Templars say it was the mage underground," he said.

"There is no evidence of that at this time, Milord," Aveline replied, "And even if they were, what was their motivation? Noting was stolen…"

"It could have been a terror attack?" Poole suggested.

"If it was, it failed miserably," the Viscountess added, "The market will be cleaned up and reopened in an hour. The injured are being tended to, and we are already looking for the family of the poor unfortunate that was killed."

Aveline stood a little straighter, letting the full weight of her time in the Ferelden military come to the forefront.

"We are doing everything we can, Milord," she said respectfully, "For now just be grateful you're your daughter is safe, and that the culprits of this attack will soon be apprehended."

She took a step forward, not enough to violate the man's personal space, but to make it clear how seriously she took this matter.

"We will find who did this, ser" she said, "You can count on that."

Poole leaned a little heavily on his cane, but after a few moments nodded.

Solona watched the whole exchange, gaining even more respect for her cousin, the guard captain.

Poole had always seemed to have had…a rapport with Aveline. The two of them understood each other.

By addressing the man as she might a fellow military officer, she had smoothed over a rather difficult situation. Being a warrior herself, she probably felt that the old Chevalier would likely respond to that.

In this, she seemed to be right.

Henri Poole sighed.

"I would like to remain in the keep for the time being," he said, "I would like to hear the reports as they come in."

Solona smiled.

"Of course, Lord Poole, of course," she responded, "Though we might wish to adjourn to my office, she said pointing down at the girl laying on the loveseat.

Izzy had once again drifted off to sleep, not surprising, given draught the healers had given her for the pain. She would likely drift in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night.

Lord Poole looked down at his daughter; a fond smile briefly came to his lips, and then faded just as quickly.

By the time he faced Aveline and the Viscountess again, he was all business.

"Let us be off then," he said gruffly.

"My daughter needs her rest."

IOI

Two hours later they received the after action reports from both Lieutenant Harley, and Knight-Lieutenant Cook of the Templars. Cook's men had supposed to have been patrolling the market place when everything went down.

It was safe to say that he failed in that mission.

Both reports said the same thing, early this afternoon several large packs containing what appeared to be bottled lightning was detonated in key points throughout the marketplace. The resulting burst of energy injured several and set merchant stalls on fire.

The guard had managed to recover the remains of two of the packs before the Templars confiscated the rest. The fact that magic had been used in the attack had stirred up the hornet's nest, but sadly, the Templars had no suspects. Bottled lightning was not exactly hard to come by. Both the dwarven merchant's guild and half the human merchants sold one kind of it or another. Half the gangs in Lowtown had access to it as well.

Had any Templars been in the market, they might have been able to dispel some of the effect, but alas, they had been away on other matters.

…Matters that made the attack possible.

It was not news that pleased the Viscountess, or her guard captain.

No it did not please them at all.

"Apparently," Aveline began, "The Templar in charge of the patrol received an anonymous tip of a possible mage gathering in one of the warehouse not far from the dwarven district. The young man, in his…eagerness to carry out his duty, did not bother to inform his superiors of this tip. He instead chose to abandon his patrol route, and deal with the matter himself."

Solona listened; in the back of her mind she could almost hear Master Alec's words…

Templars prefer easy prey my girl, that or they like facing an enemy they can bring all their righteous anger against.

Weigh that anger against doing their duty? Their anger will win every time.

She pursed her lips. She tried not be jaded, but…

Sometimes her late master's words still had sway over her heart…

…Especially when the Jackal was concerned.

Sitting in the chair beside her, Lord Poole snorted like an angry horse. He leaned heavily against his cane and shook his head in disgust.

"I don't suppose the Templar has informed you of exactly where he got his tip from?"

"No, Milord," Aveline responded, "All he has said is that the source was reliable, and has turned up many good leads to the order in the past."

Solona, who was now sitting behind her desk, sighed heavily.

"I'm sure they have," she said shaking her head, "Such a man would be very useful, in spreading the wrong information. The Templars would trust him even if they had little evidence to support his claims."

"Very useful, indeed, Your Excellency," Poole said nodding, "A very basic military gambit, one of the first a young man learns at the Academie, but with the potential to be very successful if handled the right way."

The old warrior sighed.

"Whoever did this sends the Templars off on a wild goose chase, while they strike at the target of their choosing. Quick, clean, and professionally executed. "

The man smiled grimly.

"You have to admire that at least."

Solona turned to Aveline. She was doing her best to hold her anger in check. Since Hawke's wedding… it…it seemed that all the world was conspiring against her. She should have felt safe, her enemies contained…

Yet, that was no longer the case.

She hated that feeling, that helplessness.

The Templars failure in the market only added to her frustration.

She needed some way to vent it.

"I thought the Templars rotated their patrols to prevent such a thing from happening, Guard Captain? How were these…culprits able to determine that the Templars on duty today would even take the bait?"

Aveline sighed grimly.

"When a patrol route is carried out long enough, it is not hard for a careful observer to figure out who is on patrol simply by observing their movements," she answered, "People are creatures of habit, Your Excellency, Templars even more so. They like structure and routine."

The guard captain shook her head.

"Such routines can be dangerous if discovered by an enemy."

Solona crossed her hands before her face, trying to think of how best to handle this. Even the Grand Cleric could deny that her knights had messed up here.

Still she needed to be careful.

The Jackal still held a very strong hand.

"What about the warehouse," Poole asked, "Did the Templars find anything?"

"Evidence of squatters having been there in the last month, nothing more beyond that," the guard captain replied.

Solona considered that. Had the mage collective had a hideout there? Had they abandoned it before the attack?

Her blue eyes narrowed.

"What was the warehouse used for, who owns it?" she asked.

Aveline blinked, she seemed…uncomfortable with what she had learned.

A few moments later, Solona understood why.

"According to merchants we interviewed, the place is currently between owners," Aveline said, "Before that; it was leased to the Winters mercenary company. They used it as weapons cache."

Solona suppressed a shudder.

The winters used it?

Did her brother have some hand in this after all? He had employed the winters once after all.

"What of the Templar who led the attack," Poole said, "We should interview him personally. See if he knows anything we might need to know."

Aveline shook her head.

"Sadly, that won't be an option," she said, "The Knight Commander has recalled the full patrol. She sent a letter through Cullen. She intends to keep this matter in house, and conduct her own investigation."

Poole glared at that news.

"She would refuse a direct order from the Viscountess' office?"

Solona sighed.

"The Templar Order does enjoy a small amount of autonomy Lord Poole," she reminded him.

The man shook his head and grumbled.

"Bloody nuisance," he growled.

Solona did not blame him.

She felt exactly the same way.

The Templars had screwed up, and now Meredith got to shove it under a rug, bury it so deep that no one else would really know what happened.

If the Viscountess pushed the issue, she might find the Templars watching the keep take a more active role in discouraging her, which was perhaps what the Jackal wanted…

…_An excuse to bring the sharp end of the blade down on House Amell._

Solona pursed her lips.

The very thought of all this turned her stomach.

She shook her head.

She wished Sebastian was here.

You could always talk to Cullen, a little voice in the back of her mind purred.

He would not lie to you.

She shivered, the thought of a…private conversation with the Knight-Captain was…intriguing, but would likely not lead to the answers she sought.

She sighed.

No it was better to keep this matter professional, at least for now.

Aveline cursed under her breath.

"I wish I had more tell you, Your Excellency, Lord Poole,"

The guard captain shook her head.

"I just don't understand it, if this was an attack then it was not as effective as the attacker would have liked. If it was a prank, then why carry it out with such precision? Whoever placed those packs in the market did so to maximize their effect. Why go to all that trouble for just random violence?"

Aveline pursed her lips.

"It doesn't make any sense."

Poole sighed heavily.

"Don't beat yourself up too terribly over this girl, it wasn't your fault."

She gave the man a sad smile.

"Tell that to the girl that died today," she said.

Solona frowned.

She was aware of the fact that there was only one fatality.

She was surprised that no nobles had shown up at the keep demanding blood for that death.

It was quite strange.

"Who was killed Aveline," she asked, "Clearly not a noble?"

Aveline frowned.

"She wasn't a noble, no," the guard captain admitted, "To be honest we are not sure exactly how she died. She had no electrical burns, and yet it seemed that she just fell dead, perhaps her heart just stopped."

"Scared to death perhaps," Lord Henri offered.

"Perhaps," Aveline replied, clearly not happy with the answer.

"The fact that she wasn't a noble does not make her death any less sad, despite what the high and mighty might say."

The guard captain shook her head.

"The girl was a Fereldan, a refugee that came here during the Blight. She hoped to find a new life here and instead found something worse. She apparently worked down on the docks, selling herself for coin."

Solona winced.

_Poor girl,_ she thought.

_Had she come up to Hightown looking to find some beauty? If she had…it made her end even more tragic._

The Viscountess shook her head.

"What was her name?" she asked.

"She went by Molly," Aveline said, "or so I have been told."

"Any family?" Solona asked.

"None that we can find," Aveline answered, "We will keep looking, but…

She winced.

"It doesn't look good, Your Excellency."

Poole sighed.

"If the girl does have family, we owe it to them to let them know what happened, to lose a child, to have them die like that…it is unacceptable."

"We will," Solona promised, "if they are here, we will find them."

"My guard is already looking," Aveline promised, "We will see what turns up."

The Viscountess shook her head.

Whatever had brought the girl to Hightown, she clearly had not found it.

It…it was so sad.

Poor soul, she thought.

Poor unfortunate soul.

IOI

Izzy had not been asleep when the Viscountess had left, she had laid there with her eyes closed feigning sleep, hoping against hope that the fools would leave.

It had not been easy laying so still, it had been so hard not to laugh and leap joyfully into the air.

She had needed to be…careful, and reserved, it was not something she came by easily.

It was like her father had said long ago.

She was just too passionate a person.

It had been…difficult at first, seeing with another's eyes, speaking with their tongue, walking with their feet, it had been difficult, oh so difficult.

Yet now…it was over.

Now…she had won.

She rose to her feet, wiggling her new toes, running her fingers through her long dark hair. She looked down on those hands, darker than Molly's had been, but still…she could not deny that she had traded up.

The girl smiled.

She stripped off her gown, and her smalls, wanting to see exactly what it was she had bought. Stanley and his men had done their job perfectly, the bottled lightning triggered at just the right time, Separating the girl from her protectors, forcing her down that alley….

…Down that alley and into Molly's waiting arms.

She had been soooo frightened, sooo panicked.

Molly had been more than willing to help her…

…More than willing to make a deal.

She stood nude before a large mirror in the corner, inspecting her new holdings as it was.

Sweet Maker, she thought, look at these tits!

They were perfect.

She a long finger between her breasts, letting it run down to her belly button.

"Yessss," she purred, "perfect."

She turned around inspecting her backside. It pleased her almost as much as her front.

"Jussst perfect!"

In the back of her mind she could feel the girl struggling, her mind crying out inside the mental cage.

The new Izzy did not mind the sensation, in fact, she reveled in it.

Soon the girl's will would tire and grow weak. Soon the girl had been Esmerelda Poole would just melt away, just as Molly had, and her place…

The new Izzy would remain.

She giggled even as reached up and played with her curly black hair. It was a bit long for her tastes, but she would take care of that soon.

A shiver ran down her spine.

I've done it, she thought.

I'm here.

I'm back in the Viscount's Keep.

And in no time at all, she would regain everything she wanted.

Izzy sneered; it was an ugly look, one her father would not have recognized, not on the face of his daughter.

At long last, she felt whole again.

_At last,_ she thought, _at last I have the body I have always wanted. One that even Angelique Poole would have desired in life._

_Now…_

The Abomination purred contently.

_Now…I will have…everything else._

Her eyes blazed with violet fire, fire and wanton hunger.

The world was her oyster, and all because one poor little girl had been scared, all because she had asked a friendly stranger to protect her.

It was sad really…

The creature that had once been Izzy giggled.

Poor unfortunate soul.


	21. The Price of Nobility

**Chapter 21: The Price of Nobility**

Solona was in her office when the letter from Ostwick arrived. For weeks now she had been waiting for word from Daylen's agents in the walled city, some word if the plan to remove Baron Lafaille from their shores was ready to proceed.

To be honest she had started to lose hope. She had heard little from Bann Aliza since she had first sent Ana here, and what she had heard had nothing to do with the Orlesian or what the nobles of Ostwick were doing about him.

The Viscountess frowned.

Surely they had to know how dangerous their situation was becoming. The longer the Baron went without victory, the more likely he was to do something desperate, something that might cause irreparable harm to their fair city, and even if that did not happen, the man still had an army, perhaps not as large as it once was, but still a very strong force.

Such a force would likely be more than enough to occupy the coastal city.

Yes, she thought time was growing short, the longer they waited the more likely that something unexpected might happen, and with the Templars still crawling all over the keep, Solona would not be in the best position to try and stop it.

Which is why she turned to Daylen and his contacts in the first place, her brother seemed more than certain that with their combined resources, the Orlesian could be removed.

Now the letter had arrived, **thee** letter.

Her frown deepened as she read it. It seemed to contain nothing about their plans, just a lot of talk about the weather and certain popular trends that had come from Orlais. It did contain the code-phrases she and Daylen had agreed upon, to show that it was a correspondence about their plan.

So, what was going on here?

What…was she missing?

Solona ran he fingers over the parchment. She **was** missing something, she was sure of it. She could sense the slight twinge of magic from the paper, but none of the revealing spells she knew uncovered anything.

Finally, she sighed.

It seemed that she would have to seek out help if she wanted to know exactly what was in front of her.

She called for one of her pages; the man was there in seconds.

She gave him her most regal look.

"Have the guards bring my brother here please," she said.

The man nodded and bowed before heading back out into the keep.

The Viscountess leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily.

Even though he had agreed to help her, even though he had done everything she had asked since his surrender, she could still not shake the feeling that Daylen was up to something. It had taken her losing everything to see what kind of a man her brother had grown into, how he had spent much of his mid-teens plotting against her, and gathering her enemies for the sole purpose of overthrowing her.

Her frown deepened.

What was he doing up there? What did he think about as he lay on his bed locked in his tower room? Had he truly decided to aid her, or was this all just another of his schemes? Had he planned for her to ask for his help in dealing with the Orlesian? Was she falling into another of his traps?

There was no easy answer. If she was wrong, it was the height of paranoia, but if she was right…

Then she had possibly let their doom in the front door…again.

Neither thought gave her much comfort, nor did both have the potential for disaster.

The Viscountess shook her head.

In the end it came down to trust. Daylen had no more love for the Orlesian then she did. Even at the height of their war he never once tried to approach the man for an alliance, not that he would have been able to given Daylen's reliance on blood magic and the elf that practiced it.

No, Neria Surana would have been enough to keep the Orlesian away; his feelings about elves were well known.

Such a man was not the type to make an alliance with someone who trusted one, much less had produced an elf-blooded child.

Then there were her brother's personal feelings about their family, about House Amell as a whole.

In this, she and her brother shared a common ground, both of them respected what their late father had done, and neither wanted to be the one to tear that all down.

Her brother believed in the idea of an Amell dynasty, it was the one goal they both shared. If the Orlesian won, or Knight Commander Meredith destroyed them, there would be nothing left of their proud family's heritage.

Daylen did not want that, and neither did she.

They were both still Amells after all, and for an Amell one thing was certain.

Family came first.

Perhaps that was the reason she still clung to the hope that she and Bethany could mend fences. They had been so close once, almost sisters.

She had to believe that whatever happened, whatever her cousin had done; it had been for the good of the family, the protection of safety of their children.

Without that, what truly did they have? Without that loyalty, they would be destroyed, whether by the Jackal and her Templars or the Baron or his Chevaliers, it did not matter.

House Amell would fall…

…and there would be nothing they could do about it.

Solona crossed her hands in front of her face, deep in thought, almost lost in prayer.

Whatever happened next, it would fall upon her brother and his allies.

She needed to have faith.

She needed to trust him.

She could not forget what he had done, the lives he had taken the world he had tried to destroy, but she could try to forgive, one day she might even find it in her heart to actually do that.

Forgiveness was possible, but she would never forget.

She heard the sound of boots approaching, and she thought she heard her brother's voice.

Solona's eyes narrowed.

Never forget what he is, she thought.

Never…forget.

IOI

"Prick your finger, and let a drop of blood fall on the page."

Daylen smiled as his sister gave him a suspicious look, not that he blamed her.

"Neria enchanted the parchment," he said with a sigh, "It will only reveal what is written on it to a member of the Amell bloodline.

He gave her a sly smile.

"You are welcome to use **my **blood if you're so worried?"

Solona glared at him.

That look just made his smile widen.

This was one of the few times that the two of them had been left alone in a room together. The guards were just outside the door should his dear sweet sister need them, but at least she understood the value of keeping what was on that parchment between them.

A necessary precaution, with so many strangers in the keep, Templars traders, and servants not directly in House Amell's employ it was hard to keep anything secret. There were too many eyes on them now, and far too many ears.

_Discretion was what was called for now…_

…_Discretion __**and **__watchfulness._

He watched as Solona pricked her finger with a small dagger, why she was carrying, he thought he could guess.

She held her finger over the parchment, and let a single drop of blood fall…

Daylen almost chuckled when he heard his sister gasp. He could not see what was happening, but knew what it was.

The letters on the parchment were rearranging themselves…

Now…they would know what his agents had to report.

Solona read through the letter, carefully.

Daylen waited patiently, waited for her to tell her what was inside.

His sister smiled.

It seems that Teyrn had agreed to meet with us," The Viscountess said, "At least he is willing to listen to what we have to say. The nobles who have supported the Baron the most are willing to help, or at least the most influential of them are, their leader Lord Crestmere, he is prepared to support us for…"

Solona's smile fell, her eyes widened in shock.

She pursed her lips, looking worried.

Daylen frowned.

When Solona looked up at her brother she looked angry, more than angry…

She looked furious!

He had never been afraid of his sister before…

The look on her face changed that.

"**Is this some kind of joke?!"**

"What," he asked.

"What did you promise these people? Was there something in the last letter **that I did not see?!"**

"**You** wrote it," he reminded her, "There were no enchantments on that letter I assure you. What's wrong?"

Solona hissed, the flames in the fireplace bloomed, every candle in the room flared.

"What?" He repeated.

Solona almost crumpled up the paper, almost tossed it across the room, or burned it away with her magic. Aqua-colored fire blazed in her eyes.

It was all she could do to get up and take the parchment and drop it in Daylen's hands.

Her brother read the last section.

He pursed his lips at what he had read.

The Viscountess paced in front of him. He was surprised she had not yet called out and had him dragged down to the dungeons.

At least she had managed some self-control. He understood her anger, but…

He also understood what was being asked.

"It could be worse," he sighed, "At least they are willing to deal with you."

Solona glared him.

"Didn't you read what was in there?" she demanded, "Are you actually telling me that this is right?!"

Daylen shrugged.

"Right or wrong does not enter into this sister. This is the way the game is played."

The Viscountess' eyes narrowed.

"Livia," she spat, "Crestmere…he…he wants Livia, **my daughter**!"

Daylen shifted in his seat.

"This is the way that noble houses make alliances sister," he reminded her, "As I said, this is the way the game is played."

Her brother shrugged.

"The strongest alliances are forged through matrimony."

Solona spun around; she looked every bit the angry lioness people said she could be.

"SHE IS JUST A BABY!" the Viscountess snarled.

Her brother winced.

"It is not like they are ripping her from your arms," he said trying to sooth her. "When she turns thirteen, she will be sent to live the Crestmere family in Ostwick, so she can get to know her future husband."

Solona hissed and began pacing again.

That she should do this to her own child!

It…it was INTOLERABLE!

"We need to offer them something else," she said.

Daylen frowned.

"Lord Crestmere, from what I have heard of the man, isn't the type of person to take something else…not when he has decided it is what he wants."

Solona spun around, she gestured.

Daylen gasped, he found himself surrounded by magic…

…and that magic was constricting, not crushing him exactly, but not letting him breathe either.

He gasped.

Solona looked ready to murder him.

"THIS WAS YOUR DOING!" she spat, "YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!"

Her brother hissed, trying to get his breath back.

"I didn't," he snarled.

"Yet, you are fine with it," the Viscountess growled, "You think this is a good idea."

"I never said that," Daylen said trying to take a breath, "I…"

He gestured.

The magic around him dispelled.

IOI

Solona gasped. She half expected her brother to smite her. He had been so quiet these last few weeks…

She had almost forgotten his Templar training.

Daylen slumped to the ground; he was glaring at her, his eyes like to icy blue voids.

She could see the fury there. The fury that threatened to spill over into madness, but just as quickly as it had reared up…

Her brother sighed.

The madness faded.

He took a deep breath and sat back down.

"Now," he said wiping his mouth, "May we talk sensibly?"

Solona frowned but returned to her desk.

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded. It was not often that she lost her temper; her magic demanded so much control.

Her brother had always seemed to know what buttons to push.

"Okay," he began, "To answer your earlier question, no, I had nothing to do with this. As to what Lord Crestmere wants, that is not surprising."

He gave her a sad smile.

"You know, I always wondered why Father never tried to find a marriage match for you. Technically, you should have been living with your would be husband's family by the time you were thirteen."

He shrugged.

"Father no doubt realized that he couldn't give you away. Too many questions about why he kept you from the city, even after the Threnholds were gone."

Daylen shook his head.

"I should have realized back then that you had to have a secret. It is the only reason why Father would go to such lengths to protect you."

"Why did he not choose a bride for you?" she asked.

Again Daylen smiled.

"Father's health was failing by the time I was that age, remember, even so…I'm not sure he wanted to risk me leaving. Marius in the Circle, you living on the run, if Mother had not written to you, She would have served as Lady Protector, at least until I was old enough to take the throne."

Again Daylen shook his head.

"If she had done that, our lives would have been very different."

Solona lowered her eyes. Thinking of their mother made her realize just how much she had come to love her children. Livia was such a free spirit.

She…she could not imagine sending her away.

Daylen pursed his lips, perhaps realizing what she was thinking.

"If we want this done, it has to be this way," he reminded her.

Solona almost whimpered.

"She is my baby, Daylen."

He gave her a sad look.

"It is not all bad, sister," he said, "Ten years is a long time, much can happen between now and then. Perhaps the Crestmeres will find a new bride for their son, a more advantageous one. In the meantime if we want the plan to go forward, you must say yes."

Daylen rubbed his arm, looking down at the stump where his missing hand once was.

Solona said nothing, still not wanting to accept this.

Her brother frowned.

"The longer we wait, the harder it will be to unseat the Orlesian. Even now he might be drawing up plans to take Ostwick for himself, if he does that…we may never get him out, and the Empire of Orlais will have a beach head to begin a new invasion of the Free Marches.

Daylen's eyes narrowed.

"We can't allow that sister. You know that."

He pinned her with his icy cold gaze.

"We both know that."

Solona winced.

If only there was some other way? If only she could convince Lord Crestmere that he did not want his son marrying her daughter?

She shook her head.

Daylen was not wrong, much could happen in ten years; perhaps by then they could find some way to get Livia out of this…

She sighed.

In the meantime…

The Viscountess shook her head.

"I will send a response in the affirmative," she told her brother.

Daylen gave her a sly smile.

"It is all you can do sister, at least, for now."

Solona's eyes narrowed.

All she could do?

She wasn't sure about that.

The Viscountess looked out the window, even as her fingers closed into angry fists.

She would do this, but she not pleased.

If…if only there were some other way.

She sighed heavily.

She wished Sebastian was here.

For now she had to try to have faith, and focus on what needed to be done.

Sebastian would return soon, and then…

They would decide what was best to do next.

She did not doubt that.

She trusted her husband.

He would know what the right thing to do was.

She was confident of that.

He would know.


	22. Bloody Hands

**Chapter 22: Bloody Hands**

When things happened, they often happened fast.

It had been two weeks since Solona had sent word to Daylen's agents. Two weeks and still they had heard no reply from the Teyrn of Ostwick.

Two weeks, Solona thought.

And she was still no close to finding out if she had what she needed to rid herself of the Orlesian and his cronies.

The Viscountess frowned.

Had the Teyrn changed his mind about at least hearing her out? Had the Orlesian beat her to the punch and made some new deal on his own? Daylen had advised that she be patient.

They would have their answers soon enough…

Meanwhile, Solona threw herself into her duties as Viscountess and caring for her children. Leandra continued to help, even though she did get tired and have to lie down every now and then. The Viscountess had also received a letter from Bethany in Starkhaven. It had taken a bit, but it looked like the trade deal that she was setting up was very close to going through.

Such news pleased the Viscountess; it would go a long way to restoring the order that had been broken during her clash with her brother. The reestablishment of trade was a long time coming.

Of course, she had heard nothing from Sebastian, Bethany had said that he sent her his love, but that was really not enough.

The Viscountess felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

She had a feeling, a feeling that something was amiss, something she could not quite put her finger on…

Something was happening though she could not put her finger on what exactly it was…

Nothing seemed wrong, but her instincts told her that not everything was as it seemed.

She had tasked Varric to do some discreet…investigating.

She needed to find out what was bothering her.

During the day she could keep herself distracted with her work…at night…

It was not so easy.

Her rest was often fitful, and interrupted. She would often reach across the bed, hoping to find her husband there. She felt a dull ache in her heart, a longing for companionship that she had perhaps come to take for granted.

She rolled over and curled into a ball.

Then…she thought of Cullen.

She…she had not taken him back into her bed since their initial liaison. Guilt over the deed was enough to kill any further…desire she felt for the handsome Templar, but the wanting remained. It often took all her will to resist the urge to summon him when he was in the keep, to convince him to spend the night in her arms and in her bed.

The Viscountess shivered.

She would lay there in bed, fighting desire and frustration, about to scream into her pillow. The whole thing was ridiculous in more ways than one.

It wasn't right, she knew that.

Cullen was not her husband; she had no right to desire him…

She whimpered.

…But slaking that desire…that would feel _sooo _good.

_Stop it,_ she thought angrily.

_**Just stop it!**_

This was not the first time she had been tempted by another man. Back when she had been in the run from Daylen's forces, she had felt attraction for her old friend Graydon Stark.

She had resisted that attraction. What had come to pass with her and Cullen felt…it felt like…

The Viscountess did not know what it felt like. All she knew was that she needed him.

It was a need she was determined to resist.

She rose from bed and slipped on her robe.

If she could not sleep then at least she could try to get some work done.

She rang the bell beside her bed.

The door to her chambers opened.

"Can I do something for you, Your Excellency?"

The fact that one of her ladies were standing by was not surprising, which one it was however was…

"Izzy?" Solona said with a confused frown, "You are certainly up late."

The girl gave her a sly smile.

"I've never been much for sleep, Your Excellency," she cooed, "So much to do and so little time."

Solona's eyes narrowed.

Izzy…there… there was something _different_ about her tonight.

Perhaps…something had been different for a while.

Since escaping that fracas in the market, several of her ladies had made…comments about Izzy's…behavior. She was not as friendly as she once had been one said, came off as colder than she once had.

That was not the only change apparently.

Solona blinked.

"You cut your hair," she said.

"Oh this," Izzy said gesturing to her new shortened mane, "I felt that I needed a change, and…if I might add…"

The girl giggled.

"I'm told a certain boy in the keep finds it quite attractive."

She tilted her head.

"Don't you agree, Your Excellency," she asked, "Am I not attractive?"

Solona blinked her tired eyes.

For a brief moment, Izzy Poole seemed to shimmer; an almost violet light seemed to shine in her dark eyes.

The Viscountess stood there…dumbfounded.

Solona had to admit, she was quite beautiful. A slight pang of jealousy tugged at her heart, a brief breath of dark and forbidden desire.

The girl looked good, she could not deny that, good…and…familiar?

The Viscountess shook her head.

_Perhaps I am more tired than I thought._

Izzy's brother Simon was still in Starkhaven with Sebastian and the others, perhaps he might be able to find out more about what was going on with the girl when he returned.

For now, she just had to accept that Izzy's experiences had changed the girl.

That was likely all it was, she thought…

…just a slight change.

IOI

The morning came as it always did.

Solona was always busy at this time of course. She refused to let servants alone tend to the needs of her children. She was bound and determined to have a place in their lives, beyond simply being called there mother.

She intended to be their mother, and do all that that name implied.

She and Leandra had just managed to stop a food fight at the breakfast table. The elder Hawke tended to little Angie, while Lona tended to Perrin. Livia giggled at the mess, but otherwise said nothing.

There was a loud knock on the door, a hard knock.

Solona paused.

She knew the sound when someone official had arrived.

She bade the messenger enter. Graydon Stark stood before looking grimmer than she had ever seen. It was a hard thing, considering the manner of the dour Ferelden warrior.

She gave him a quizzical look.

He frowned.

They had received word from Ostwick.

It wasn't good.

Solona excused herself and went with Stark; he mentioned that what he had for her was not for outside ears.

Things had happened in the last few days.

Things she needed to be aware of.

IOI

"Ostwick is sealed," he began, "a cadre of nobles has taken charge of the city."

Solona's brow furrowed. She was currently sitting in her office, both Gray and Varric stood before her. It was through one of Varric's contacts that word had reached them.

The news was…confusing to say the least.

Solona blinked at her two advisors, trying to make sense of all this.

"What do you mean…taken charge?"

Stark winced.

Varric sighed.

"We're not exactly sure what happened, Your Highnessness," the dwarf said, "According to my contacts, the Teyrn and his heir rode out of the city a week ago, apparently on some kind of special mission. One day later, Baron Lafaille left the city, accompanied by half his army. The rest were left in reserve, to support the city if they were needed."

Solona nodded; so far she followed what Gray and the dwarf were saying.

What came next changed all that.

"Yesterday, evening," Varric continued, "a group of nobles from Ostwick struck. The city guard had either been bribed or misdirected, but it was clear that not a one lifted a finger to help.

"The nobles hit the Orlesians in their city…hard," Stark added. "Those who had no ties to the families involved in the strike were killed in the first hour of the attack. The rest were either arrested, or attempted to flee to their warships."

Varric looked a little green at the mention of that.

"They found no sanctuary on their ships; the nobles had likely taken them first. The whole thing was over in a few hours."

Solona shuddered.

It sounded as bad as when the Vales were murdered. The prince and his family caught completely off guard. The fact that the people struck down were loyal to Baron Lafaille did little to change what had happened.

It was the one thing every ruler in Thedas feared.

Once you had lost the respect of your people, your life often followed.

"What has the Teyrn of Ostwick had to say about this," she inquired, "Do any of your contacts know where he is?"

Varric and Stark looked at each other; the look on their faces spoke more than a thousand words.

It was a look that chilled Solona to the bone.

"We just received word from Bann Trevelyan," Varric said, "If…if Lady Aliza is to be believed then…"

The dwarf shook his head.

Stark looked down at the floor.

"According to Bann Aliza, the Teyrn and his eldest son are dead. They died in a small tavern a few leagues from here."

Solona's eyes widened.

She…she…

Oh Maker!

She was almost speechless!

"Do…do we know how it happened?" she asked.

"He was struck down by his own bodyguards, apparently," Varric said, "Bann Aliza thinks that the Orlesian was involved, that he might have bribed the Teyrn's men."

"According to my contacts," Varric sighed, "Bann Aliza got an anonymous tip hinting at the plot, then one of the Orlesian knights, a young man who has recently married into one of Ostwick's noble families confirmed what was about to happen. Lady Aliza went to Lord Crestmere, who sent men to try and rescue the Teyrn."

"They did not make it," Stark said shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Your Grace."

Solona shook her head.

"What about the rest of the Teyrn's family?"

"Crestmere has them now in protective custody," Stark said, "at least until this crisis ends."

"What of Baron Lafaille?" she asked, "Where is he in all this?"

"No one knows, yet," Stark said, "He may have escaped Crestmere's troops when they arrived. Apparently it was a bit of a fur ball that fight. The bodies cleaved up quite good."

Stark sighed.

"If he still lives he is without allies. The new royal court of Ostwick has placed a price on his head. He comes anywhere near the city he will be executed."

Solona leaned back in her chair, her mind still trying digest what she had heard.

Lafaille was either dead or on the run, his army was destroyed.

The Teyrn, who had never gotten back to her about a meet, was dead not far from here.

A mysterious anonymous tip had warned the nobles of the Baron's treachery

Everything seemed cut and dried a perfect end to her problems, and all tied up in a nice pink bow.

The Viscountess frowned.

Thai is why she did not trust it.

She gave Varric a steely look.

He tried not to look intimidated.

"Why did the Teyrn leave the safety of his city?" she asked.

"I can't say, You Highnessness."

But your contacts have heard a possible answer, haven't they?"

Varric shifted under gaze.

"Yeah," he admitted, "They have, but you aren't going to like it."

Solona scowled at her old friend.

He took a deep breath, and he told her.

Blue fire burned in her eyes.

Every torch in the Viscount's Keep blazed brightly.

"Get my brother in here," she hissed.

"NOW!"

IOI

Daylen tried not to swagger as he was brought before his sister…again.

He wished that he could say that he was surprised, but he wasn't. Lona had never been the most…accepting to ruler when it came to deception, even when it favored her.

He kept his face bland, neutral.

He would need to talk fast if he was to survive the next few moments.

At least, he thought, trying to suppress a smile…

At least this time, I'm not in irons.

Stark almost shoved him through the door to his sister's office, wasn't again she was trying to keep this all nice and quiet, that part impressed him at least.

What was about to be discussed did not need to be aired before the entire royal court.

He stood before her a penitent man, humble before his liege lord.

Solona looked up at him, her eyes almost glowing with rage.

"Is there a problem, sister?" he asked.

She glared.

If she had had her staff in hand, she likely would have taken a swing at him.

"The Teyrn of Ostwick is dead," she said flatly.

He shrugged.

"Yes," he answered.

"The Teyrn of Ostwick's son is **dead**."

"Yes."

"The nobles of Ostwick, including Lord Crestmere rose up against him. The Orlesian is missing, either dead or in hiding. They have placed a bounty on his head, for killing their Teyrn."

"Yes?"

Solona's eyes narrowed the candles around them blazed brightly.

"Yes," she growled, "Yes? Is that all you have to say to me?!"

Daylen shrugged.

"What do you wish for me to say sister? That I'm sorry that our enemy is dead? That I'm sorry that the fool that gave him succor is dead?"

Solona rose from her chair, it flipped back falling on the floor.

She stood like a monolith, glaring at her brother with righteous fury.

"The Teyrn was killed in an inn not far from here. According to Varric he was there to meet with me, and yet I received no letter informing me where we were to meet, or when."

"Of course not," Daylen replied, "Bann Trevelyans agents had been watching the Teyrn quite closely, they intercepted his answer to that letter, as Bann Aliza intended for them too."

He gave her a wan smile.

"You see sister, your meeting with the Teyrn; it was never meant to be."

Her mouth fell open in shock.

"Is this what you **wanted** to happen? Is this what your agents were informed to do from the beginning?"

Daylen shrugged.

"Crestmere has wanted to be Teyrn for a while now. He had a young daughter who was to be married to the Teyrn's eldest son, but the girl died of a fever a few years ago. Then the Orlesian showed up pouring many honeyed words in the Teyrn's ear, promises of lands in Orlais when he took Kirkwall's throne. Crestmere supported Lafaille in the hope that he could find a way back in to the Teyrn's good graces, that never happened.

Daylen smiled most mischievously.

"It wasn't hard to bring him into my plan. I once told you I had my **own** plans to deal with Lafaille, but I never had the resources to deal with him myself…."

He chuckled, amused.

"Thanks to you, I finally did."

Solona shook, she was enraged, her fingers flexing like claws.

Daylen realized he had to talk fast.

"Crestmere paid off the Teyrn's bodyguards; it was not hard considering all the Orlesian gold he was bribed with early on in Lafaille's occupation. All that remained was to get the painted bastard out of Ostwick, my agents handled that."

Daylen shook his head.

"Lord Death's Hand made the Orlesian an offer, in exchange for killing you at the meeting sister; I would endorse him for the crown of Kirkwall."

Daylen snorted.

"The arrogant bastard actually believed I would betray my own family to him. You know…part of me almost wishes I could have seen their faces, the Orlesian and his Ostwick lap dog, the look on their faces when they realized that they had been outplayed."

The young noble shook his head.

"It would have been glorious.

Solona…was still not amused.

"You told him where the meeting with going to be?"

"Yes."

"You, Crestmere, Trevelyan, none of you ever intended for the meeting with the Teyrn to be successful?"

Daylen sighed.

"Sister, the Teyrn would **never** have accepted what you had to offer. He blamed you for bringing the Qunari into the Free Marches in the first place."

"I **dealt** with that problem."

"Yet you were still **responsible** for it in the first place," Daylen said rolling his eyes, "Trevelyan had been trying for months to get the Teyrn to sit down with you, so that she could get trade flowing again. He simply would not listen to reason. The only reason why he agreed to come to this meeting was because it was meant to be a trap for you. He brought extra men to capture or kill you for his friend the Orlesian Baron."

Daylen shook his head.

"That would have led to open war between Kirkwall and Ostwick. The nobles did not want that. **We** did not want that."

Solona blinked.

"The Teyrn…he…he would have…"

"His bodyguards will admit to such if they are placed before a court, but that is not going to happen. This matter is closed."

Solona glared at him.

"This is not over!"

"Yes, it is."

"Don't you realize what you have done?!"

Daylen waved his hand dismissively.

"I stopped a war, and saved my daughter. That is all that matters to me."

The Viscountess almost whimpered.

"How am I going to explain this to Sebastian?"

"Tell him the truth," Daylen said, "Blame it on me."

"I helped you," she reminded him, "I have the Teyrn's blood on my hands. I have the blood of his family on my hands."

Daylen sighed and shook his head.

"Must you be so melodramatic?"

"Daylen?"

"No," her brother growled, "Now you will listen to me for once. You no longer have any right to take the moral high ground with me."

Daylen glared at her.

"You have been coddled long enough," he said, "It is time you face reality."

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"I should have you locked up for the rest of your life!"

Again her brother shrugged.

"That will not change anything sister," he said, "Do you remember what I said to you, before we started this enterprise."

"Daylen?"

He glared at her.

"What. Did. I. Say. Sister?"

Solona shook her head.

"You said," she hissed under her breath, "You said if I was not prepared to do what was necessary. I needed to stop right now."

Daylen smiled.

"Exactly," he said, "I told you this would be a bloody business. I warned you, but you insisted. We had to rid the Free Marches of Baron Lafaille."

He sneered.

"Well, it worked. Mission accomplished sister."

"And what happens when the agents you used to set this up start talking? What happens when they start demanding payment to keep their mouths shut?"

Daylen chuckled.

"What makes you think there is any of them left, to talk?"

That realization stopped her cold.

She…she…

Oh Maker.

Daylen gave her a sad smile.

"Do not be too angry with me, Lona," he said, "I told you once, no matter what I did, no matter how cruel it seemed. It would _always_ be in defense of my family."

He sighed.

"If I had told you the complete truth of what was going to happen, you never would have gone along with me. You would have sent in Stark, Fenris and whoever else. They might have killed Lafaille, and the Teyrn, but then we would have a war with Ostwick to deal with. If that happened, what would have stopped Meredith from supporting the Orlesian; maybe she would have used the Templars to seize the city as she almost did during our father's rule."

Daylen shook his head.

"No sister, another war is not what you needed, you needed peace, and well…it worked."

His smile returned.

"And all it cost you were a handful of operatives, one noble family, and a pinch of your self-respect."

Solona glared at him. She wanted to punish him. She wanted to throw him in the darkest dungeon and throw away the key, but…but…

She winced.

But…she knew she couldn't.

What Daylen had done, it was horrible, ruthless…

But it also might have saved many lives.

Sebastian would never approve, what Daylen did was no different than when the Harrimans had his family killed.

But Daylen was right.

It had saved lives.

Daylen, perhaps sensing her doubt reached out and took her hand. She looked down; her brother had not touched her since he had first been locked away.

He squeezed her fingers with his remaining hand.

"There is only one question you have to ask yourself now, sister," he said, "Can you live with what had to be done?"

Solona closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath.

Daylen had warned her, but she had not listened.

She should have listened.

She found herself looking into her brother's eyes. She saw no hate there, no judgment…

Only sad acceptance, he did not want her forgiveness, but he would have liked her understanding.

He had warned her.

"Well sister," he said, "Can you live with this?"

She took another deep breath, and when she blew it out, she let all her anger and regret go with it.

Bad business, it was all bad business, but in the end…

…It had been necessary.

She gave her brother a sad look.

Could she live with it?

Only one answer remained.

Only one answer made sense.

Could she deal with it?

She gave him a grim look.

Could she live with it?

She managed a weak smile.

"Yes."


	23. Roar

**Chapter 23: Roar**

"What is going on, Master Tethras?"

Varric looked up at Henri Poole and shrugged, the merchant lord was not the only one with questions today. The Viscountess' mass summons to the keep had everyone questioning Lady Solona's motives.

The dwarf shrugged.

Those motives would be revealed soon enough, it was not for him to speak out of turn, not about this. Her Highnessness had a plan.

It was best that she explained it herself.

"All will be made clear shortly, Lord Poole," he promised, "The Viscountess will be addressing the entire court today."

The old soldier snorted, but fell silent, his years as a soldier had no doubt taught him patience…

…Many of the other nobles were not so…fortunate.

Varric shook his head at the scene before him, the throne room was packed. Nobles moved like pack hunters, staying close to their allies while closely watching their enemies. Lona had not been kidding when she said she wanted all the lords and ladies of Kirkwall here. The end of the Orlesian had, the Viscountess hoped, brought an end to an era of chaos that had plagued the city of chains since Daylen Amell had taken the throne years ago.

According to the Viscountess, the time had come for a new era.

Of course, mixed in with all the wealthy and powerful were the Templars, the order's troops took up positions near the exits and the near those important enough to warrant their attention. More than a few of those men were likely waiting to report to the Knight-Commander as soon as Solona made her speech.

Varric smiled grimly.

It would be a report that not everyone would find favorable.

The dwarf slipped away from Lord Poole. Before Solona could begin he needed to check in with Dog Boy, Aveline, and Hawke. The timing of this had to be flawless. If anything came unstuck, tonight could turn into a disaster for House Amell.

In politics, there was a thin line between victory and defeat. It was a line that the Viscountess needed to walk carefully this day.

He spotted the Viscountess' ladies starting to enter the hall. He spotted Izzy Poole, and Ana Trevelyan. Solona would not be far behind him, which meant that he should take his place, but not before he conferred with his allies, they needed to…

"Varric?"

He saw Aveline and Graydon Stark coming towards him, both were armed and armored. For Aveline this was expected, as Captain of the City Guard she was expected to be in this chamber so prepared.

Stark being armored brought a few curious looks, whispered started to circulate around the Shield of Kirkwall. It was to be expected of course, a little confusion would work to their advantage.

He turned to his comrades and smiled.

"Aveline," he said in greetings, "Dog Boy."

Stark winced.

"Must you, Master Tethras?"

The dwarf chuckled.

"You should count yourself lucky, Stark," he said, "I only give my friends nicknames."

Aveline frowned.

"Then what does that make me."

"The woman that still scares the shit out of me," he replied, "I'll come up with a proper name for you one day."

Aveline sniffed, but smiled slightly.

Varric's expression turned serious.

"Are we ready to begin?" he asked.

Both Stark and Aveline nodded.

"It took us most of the afternoon," Stark said, "But…we're ready."

Varric smiled.

"Then we better take our places," he said.

"Today promises to be a very interesting night."

IOI

Solona took one last glance at herself in the mirror. Once again she wore the black and gray robes of state. Her father's lion pin placed just over her heart. The black crown of Kirkwall fit snuggly upon her brow.

The Viscountess sighed.

Tonight would be a new beginning, whatever if the result.

She adjusted her gloves, thinking about those who had once stood beside her. Once upon a time, her mother and Bother Alec would be standing at her side, advising her on how best to address the nobles.

She winced at the thought. It was the way of things she knew, things changed, but that did not mean that she did not think of them. She had depended on them for so long…now…now…

Lona sighed

She missed their counsel.

"_We are still with you dear,"_ mother's voice seemed to say, "_You will do fine."_

"_You are ready, girl,"_ Brother Alex's voice added, "_We prepared you, gave you everything we were. You can do this…"_

She nodded.

"Yes Master," she murmured, "Yes Mother."

"_We are with you."_

She took a deep breath, her hand drifted to her father's old pin.

She hoped that was true.

After the incident with Ostwick, she realized that she needed to change tactics. For so long she had been reacting when she should have been acting. For too long she had allowed herself to be led by the actions of the others.

The Viscountess' eyes narrowed.

The time had come for that to stop.

IOI

Ironically, enough, it had been Daylen who convinced her of the necessity of this.

She had met with him here, in this very room; while they had been talking a Templar had drifted by, a little too interested in their conversation.

Both of them had frowned about that.

"How long are you going to tolerate this?" he inquired.

"I need to be careful around Meredith, brother," she reminded him, "The Threnholds…"

His eyes narrowed.

"You are no Threnhold, sister," he growled, "You are an Amell, a lion, the lioness of Kirkwall. When I drove you from this city, you had nothing, just the clothes on your back. Yet, you prevailed; you beat Tevinters and beguiled Starkhaven. She returned with an army, and seized back what I took from you. You fought and killed the Arishok in single combat."

Her brother shook his head.

"What I have seen these last few months. That is **not** the woman who defeated me, not the woman who stood before the warlord of the Qunari and told him that he was done."

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"I have to be careful," she reminded him, "The chantry supports the Templars, if I defy them…"

"You have done everything that they have asked, everything," he retorted.

"**Everything!"**

She crossed her chest with her arms.

"You sound angry brother."

"I am angry," he said, "There is a difference between doing what is expected of you, and letting people bully you. Father did not let Meredith bully him into submission. When she destroyed the Threnholds, he rallied, he drew the nobles around him, and told the bitch, no. No, Kirkwall would not be her puppet. No, this city still belonged to the ruling class. You cannot afford to show her weakness. You have broken the Orlesian; it is now time to remind the Templars that you rule this city, not them."

A hint of a smile played across her face.

"I find it ironic that you of all people would be telling me that I deserve to rule."

He snorted and waved his hand dismissively.

"You proved me wrong sister," he said, "I thought you weak, you proved more than once that you deserve father's crown. I…I…"

He coughed, he actually sounded choked up. The words did not come easy for him.

"I…I was wrong. I…I let myself get lost in my own ambitions. Our family is what matters, right now, that is you."

He sighed.

"I don't want my daughter growing up in a world where she has to constantly look over her shoulder because she is afraid of Meredith Stannard and people like her. She is an Amell. I want her to be proud of that."

Solona was surprised, rarely did Daylen speak with such passion, in that moment she saw the Viscount he could have been. Had he not let Angelique Poole and Neria Surana guide him down the path that they had wanted?

She shook her head.

It made what had happened between them years ago seem even more tragic.

This was not Death's Hand talking her to her, it was not her brother's ambition and sickness talking, and it was Daylen Amell, her brother…

She missed that.

She had not forgotten what he had done, she never would, and he had hurt her too bad to ever forget, but at the same time…

Perhaps, just perhaps, forgiveness was possible.

"You accepted what needed to be done with the Orlesian," he said, "I won't lie to you sister, for a moment I felt that old excitement, that sick joy in destroying an enemy."

He shivered, and held up the stump that had once been his hand.

"That is why I can never rule again," He said, "I can admit that now. Power, it...it made me sick. That is why it must be you; you must rule our family, for your children and mine. You are ready, you are strong, and the nobles respect you."

"You must take our home back."

Solona shivered, but at the same time, she thought about the Templar patrols roaming unchecked through the streets. She thought about Ostwick, how she had allowed their leaders to manipulate her. She had gotten what she wanted in the end, but the process to get there…it left much to be desired.

She…she…

She took another deep breath.

"What would you do?" she asked her brother.

"I would do horrible things," he admitted, "Which is why you must trust yourself. You are the Viscountess, you held the Templars in check before they knew you were a mage. You must find a way to check them again. You need to rule."

He smiled slightly.

"You're a lioness," he said.

"You need to roar."

IOI

She strode into the throne room, her eyes cool, her manner composed.

She held her head high, as she made her way to the throne; she looked for Stark and Varric. Both her hand and her shield nodded.

A shiver ran down her spine.

They were ready.

She mustered her courage as she climbed the dais. She turned and looked out over her court, her subjects.

She looked over the Templars scattered around the hall. So far they did not suspect anything.

She gestured for them to all be seated.

She took her place on the throne.

The time had come.

"Lords and Ladies of Kirkwall," she began, "We are victorious."

"She spoke of the fall of Baron Lafaille, and the end of the Teyrn of Ostwick.

"Regrettable," she said, "But also necessary, the Teyrn brought foreign fighters to our shore, people dedicated to the overthrow of House Amell, people that used the Qunari as an excuse to further their own ambitions."

She shook her head.

"The Qunari are gone, and now so is the pretender from Halamshiral. The days of warfare are done, and with it, the time has come for fair Kirkwall to rebuild."

Her announcement was met with polite applause.

"I am pleased to announce," She continued, "that the Satinalia Ball will occur this year. The time has come to renew the tradition that war and strife robbed us of for far too long. It is also time to renew the ties of friendship. Word will be sent to Ostwick, offering the restoration of ties that have been long broken.

Louder applause greeted this announcement, the merchants and nobles had long wanted to see a return of trade between Kirkwall and Ostwick. Plus it would give her a chance to evaluate Bann Trevelyan and her allies. She had let them spill blood her name.

She needed to make sure they were trustworthy.

Of course she did not say that to the nobles, for now she let them enjoy the moment.

Solona paused.

The next announcement would not likely be met with such enthusiasm, but it needed to be done.

She sighed.

"I must ask you my friends," she began, "Are you happy?"

The court fell silent, perhaps not understanding the question. She glanced at Stark, who again nodded.

She continued.

"Are you happy that find our keep filled with soldiers who do not answer to you? Are we any safer now than we were before my cousin's wedding?"

Some of the nobles murmured, the Templars in the hall visibly tensed.

Solona's face remained bland.

It was almost time.

"No crisis can last forever," she said, "Time must be allowed to heal the wounds of the past. We must move forward, and we cannot do that if our growth and movement is stifled at every turn…"

She noticed one of the Templars inching towards one of the servant's entrance. Likely planning to run and not stop running until he reached the Knight-Commander's office.

He would find that door was locked, all of them were. Only the main doors remained open, but there would be no escape through there.

Stark and Aveline had their orders. Fenris and Cousin Garrett had theirs too.

She sighed again.

"The time has come to make the keep ours again, my friends.

She rose from her throne.

"**Guards,"** she called out. **"Seize the Templars!"**

Viscountess' guards and city guards moved as one. They came in with swords drawn. The Templars were herded into the center of the room, the forces brought against them so overwhelming that resistance was impossible.

Nobles squawked and got out of the way in a hurry, some likely feared that Solona was about to make the same mistake the Threnhold's had.

She was not that foolish.

The Knight-Lieutenant glared at her. Solona gave him a cool smile.

It only further angered the man.

"This is outrageous mage," he snarled, "The Knight-Commander will…"

"Do nothing," the Viscountess spat back.

She looked out over her surprised nobles.

"My apologies, my friends," she said, "But I did not wish for these brave men to influence our vote."

She sat back down on the throne.

"The Templars will not be harmed," she said, "But the time has come to restore them to their place. The Viscount's keep is no place for chantry soldiers. It is the mothers, and the Maker, who set policy. The Templars defend us, but they don't rule us."

She once again turned to the Knight-Lieutenant.

"We are grateful for your service ser, but Kirkwall no longer requires so many of you. I have spoken with the Grand Cleric. The guard has sufficient recruits to take up the duties they performed before the Qunari attack."

She smiled down at the man.

"It is time for those who came from afar to protect us to return to their homes. They leave with our thanks and our gratitude."

Solona watched the Templar's response very carefully.

She once again addressed to the court.

"All those in favor of returning the keep to the nobles of Kirkwall, say Aye."

It was slow at first, most of the nobles wondered if she was telling the truth about not harming the Templars, and were no doubt weighing what response Knight-Commander Meredith would have to this action.

Solona had not lied about speaking with the Grand Cleric, she, Stark and Aveline had both gone to the Chantry and informed Elthina of what they had planned. The woman had been hesitant, but finally had agreed.

Solona was not making the mistake the Threnholds had made; she was not trying to drive them out of Kirkwall, merely restoring the keep to its proper place and power.

If Meredith responded with violence, she would have to answer to the Divine. From what she had learned from her friend Leliana, Justinia was not Beatrix.

She would not simply let her Templars make decisions for her.

One by one, noble hands had gone up, there was fear yes, but also resolve as well. Most of the nobles had grown to dislike having Templars looking over their shoulders constantly.

They had not acted, because they feared that their Viscountess would not support them, now they knew different.

Now, they had support.

Solona waited until the vote passed before allowing anyone out of the chamber. Stark's soldiers and Aveline's guard were politely herding the Templars out of the keep. Hawke and Varric had arranged for more volunteers outside the keep, these men and women would make sure that the removed Templars did not cause trouble. They would be escorted to the docks and put on ships in the harbor. Meredith could give them shelter in the Gallows if she wished, but her resources would be greatly tested by so many soldiers. By now Elthina's letter informing Meredith of this vote would be arriving at the Gallows.

If she tried to mobilize, she would be betraying a direct order from the Grand Cleric. The mages could tip the scales in the chantry's favor, but given Meredith's increases in her treatment of them. She doubted that Orsino would lift a finger to help her. If anything he might end up supporting the Viscountess.

With so many of her men under protective custody in the city, she would not be able to field a large enough force if the mages decided to act up against her.

Solona frowned.

The Jackal was no fool. She would not risk her position to dispute Solona on this. It would risk turning the nobles against her.

No, Solona thought, the Jackal would rant, but this Solona was doing this peacefully there was not much that she could do.

Solona watched the guards led the Templars out of the throne room. A few of them had vengeful glares on their faces but none risk provoking an incident. She noticed that a few of the noble's bodyguards followed the keep's defenders, men and women who had interests in seeing the Templars removed peacefully.

Solona sighed.

A harsh and reckless move, some might say, but also necessary. Had she tried to call this vote without her guards, the Templars would have intimidated the nobles into stopping it.

Thanks to her show of strength, that had not happened.

She smiled slightly.

The next move was the Jackal's, attack and become an enemy of the nobles, or withdraw and wait for a better opportunity.

Solona hoped that the Knight-Commander would choose the latter.

She sighed with relief.

…So far so good.

Once the room was clear, she once again addressed the court.

"We have taken a grand step today," she said, "But we must not forget those who have aided us so much these last few months. There is one in particular who deserves praise for his work. One who reminded me that a leader must be both compassionate and strong."

She smiled slightly.

"This man has made mistakes, but has spent much time trying to atone for them. We cannot forget what he did, but we can offer him the chance for redemption. It will take time, but time is what we have.

She gestured.

The doors to the chamber opened again.

Several of the nobles gasped.

IOI

Daylen Amell strode into the chamber, flanked by his elite guards. His coat and vest were gold and black, all bearing the black lion symbol that had been replaced when he took the skeletal hand as his sigil.

The Viscountess' brother smiled as he entered the chamber. Several of the nobles murmured as he passed.

He did nothing to respond.

Talking had never been his strong suit, he preferred actions to words.

He approached the dais, and dropped to one knee.

"My Viscountess," he purred, "My sister."

He glanced up with a humble smile.

"I am ready to serve."


	24. Winning the Game

**Chapter 24: Winning the Game**

"Aunt Alana?"

Alana Rosewood looked up from her sandwich. Her nephew, and Captain of the Prince's Guard, Liam Rosewood stood before her. The young man was a perfect example of what a Starkhaven militia officer should be, handsome, strong, and loyal to his prince.

The old woman chuckled.

She hated to admit, but she was a little bias.

"Yes, Dearie," she purred, "What is it?"

He gave her a solemn look.

"Sebastian is here, as you requested," he said unable to completely hide how…uncomfortably he felt.

"Would you like me to bring him here?"

The older woman smiled.

"That would be very sweet of you, dearie. Thank you."

She wiped absently at her mouth.

"Once he has arrived, I will need you to leave us alone for a bit, there are some things that your Cousin and I need to discuss."

"As you wish, Milady," he said with a curt military bow, he executed a sharp turn and made his way back down the path.

Alana chuckled.

Always the soldier, her beloved nephew, she thought.

Even she had been tempted to salute him.

The old woman shook her head and glanced down at her latest bit of reading, a report from one of her whisperers in Kirkwall.

She was still trying to decide how best to make use of it.

The old woman leaned back in chair, breathing deeply of the fall foliage. Whenever possible, she preferred to take most of her meals out here in the gardens, not only was it beautiful, but the wind and the rustling of branches made it hard for even a skilled eavesdropper to overhear what was being said.

In Alana's line of work, such advantages were most useful.

Long ago, she had been dubbed, The Mistress of Rumors by her peers, it was a title she had worked hard living up to. She had been a sage advisor to Sebastian's grandfather during his reign as prince, and had tried to continue during the reign of the young man's father…

It was during Sebastian's father's reign, that Alana's skills had been cast aside. She had gone into exile willingly. If her advice was not wanted she would not force it, that was not her way, but she still kept her network of whisperers working, just in case their family needed her again…

Then had come the betrayal…then had come the Harimanns.

Johain Harimann's murder of the Vael family had all but destroyed Alana. She had long dotted on the boys of the Vael family, thinking of them as her own children. She had not been able to have children herself, so she took the loss as hard as any mother would, but she did not let that loss consume her.

One man's tragedy is another's opportunity she had heard.

She had decided to make the best of this opportunity.

When young Goran Vael had ascended to the throne, she had sent a letter to him almost immediately, offering him her services. At first her offers were rebuffed as Goran's "advisors" tried to convert the young man into the puppet they thought he should be. Goran, always considered soft hearted and too simple for power, proved them all wrong, he managed to get her a letter in secret, and she, emboldened by his courage had managed to get a letter to Liam and their allies…

The rest, as the sages said, was history.

Goran had used Alana's knowledge to eliminate his enemies, now he stood alone atop the throne of Starkhaven. He still needed her guidance from time to time, but for the most part the boy was turning into a very skilled ruler.

She was impressed by that, how quickly and how far the boy had come. It seemed that their family was finally back on track, especially when young Sebastian had married and settled down with Viscountess Solona Amell of Kirkwall. Despite the trials the two had faced, they had grown stronger because of it, and if the latest reports she had heard were to be believed, Kirkwall was finally stabilizing, or would be…

The Mistress of Rumors sighed.

…once she and Sebastian had…talked out few things.

Sebastian, the last living son of the previous prince, had spent the last few months helping young Bethany Bradley rebuild trade between Starkhaven and Kirkwall. The Lady Bethany was a smart woman, quickly gathering the support of any and all who she needed to make her dreams a reality. Having Sebastian, a Vael, at her side did not hurt in this endeavor, quickly the girl had risen through the ranks of the Starkhaven elite. She was likely just as powerful here as she was in her native Kirkwall…

Alana frowned.

That fact…was perhaps…a true and serious problem, the next few moments would reveal if it was or wasn't.

Alana Rosewood was not a trusting woman. She had seen and heard too much in her life to believe anything at face value. On the surface, Bethany Bradley seemed to be exactly what everyone thought she was… a skilled business woman, and sister to the Champion of Kirkwall.

The Mistress of Rumors did not trust things as they appeared on the surface, especially when what was beneath remained clouded in shadows and mystery.

The Bradley girl's history was just so clouded.

None of her whisperers could get close to the lady. Bethany Bradley was extremely paranoid about letting people in. It might have something to do with the death of her husband. Perrin Bradley had been destroyed by Daylen Amell, a young man that Bethany thought she could trust.

She had come to hate that young man and understandably so…

Now, Solona Amell had taken him back into her confidence.

Young Lady Bradley would not like that.

Alana had tried to use her agents to dismiss her fears about the girl, but none of them could get close to her. Bethany Bradley was, for all purposes, loved fiercely by her servants, not even the lowliest elven page would say anything bad about his mistress…

Such love set off alarm bells in Lady Alana's mind.

No one was **that** well-loved, no one was **that** perfect.

She had known that the girl had been gathering Solona's enemies months ago. She had also known that the young woman had kept in constant contact with her friend Justin Oslin in Estwatch. The King of Blades had been instrumental in helping Bethany Bradley eliminate a large number of rebellious nobles who had threatened House Amell's prosperity.

The Mistress of Rumors had let those events happen. She could have warned Solona and Sebastian, but she saw no need. Bethany Bradley had eliminated many of their enemies. Now she realized she might have made a mistake.

Her victory in the Vimmarks had emboldened the Lady Bradley.

Now, Alana had to ask…

What would the girl do next?

Once she had thought it a good idea to seek to wed young Liam to Bethany Bradley. He would have made a good husband for the girl, and kept the power she now wielded in their family. Now…she was glad she had not.

Bethany Bradley had her own agenda, and it was not to the advantage of House Vael.

That…she was sure of.

The young lady had many agents, she had, considering the skill in which she manipulated the lord and ladies of Starkhaven, yet Alana's whispers had found not a single one. She was also said to have possessed no small amount of military strength, but if that was true, then why could Alana not find a single mercenary company willing to admit that they worked for her?

The Mistress of Rumors shook her head.

…Too many questions…

…Too many to avoid the warning in her gut.

She leaned back in her chair, and took a deep breath of the fall air.

She was confident that she could get at least some answers out of Sebastian, or at the very least verify some rather troubling rumors.

She sighed.

Part of her wondered if she should tell Sebastian about his wife, about her and that Templar Knight-Captain. Alana was no prude, she had sowed her oats in her youth, and besides, Solona's…dalliance with the Rutherford boy seemed to have ended.

If she told him about Solona, it would hurt him, but at the same time, did the Viscountess not deserve to hear about Sebastian and her…cousin?

It was yet another question that needed to be answered about the Lady of House Bradley.

The Lady Bethany had become a woman of too many secrets.

Alana took a deep breath, steadying herself.

It was time to get some answers.

IOI

Sebastian smiled as he sat down in the gazebo. Aunt Alana had been teasing him again about his manners, manners she was sure he had mastered only after marrying Solona Amell.

The fact that she had mentioned his wife many the Prince Consort of Kirkwall squirm slightly.

Not just because of the teasing, but because of well…

He swallowed hard.

…the events of recent months.

He found himself thinking back to the last time he had met Aunt Alana in this garden, back when Lona had been on the run from her brother, back when they had come to Starkhaven seeking the aid of an army.

Alana had spoken up for them then. She had been impressed with Lona, and had retained her fondness for him.

He hoped, for all their sakes, that fondness remained.

Alana had not changed much. The same sharp blue eyes, the brown hair slowly turning to gray, she even wore the same canary yellow dress, that and the white flowered shawl.

Her intense blue eyes seemed to pin him, looking not just at his features, but into his soul as well.

It was a bit disturbing.

"I have news, dear boy," she cooed, "Word of your lovely wife."

He smiled.

"Good word, I hope," he said.

Aunt Alana shrugged.

"It depends on the situation I suppose," she replied, "Viscountess Amell has removed the Templars from the Viscount's keep. Many of the soldiers have left the city, escorted out by the Kirkwall guard."

Sebastian blinked.

"That…that is good news to be sure Aunt Alana," he said.

"Is it," she asked, "I understand what your wife is doing, dearie, but it may not have been as successful as she had hoped. Quite a few of the Templars have left, this is true, but a large number stayed behind in the Gallows, more than are needed to maintain a garrison there, that is for sure."

The Mistress of Rumors sighed.

"I have heard rumors that Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard is furious. She has sent at least two letters to Val Royeaux, demanding that the Divine intervene."

Sebastian frowned.

Surely, Divine Justinia will understand what Lona did," he said, "It was not easy living with so many Templars in the keep. Things were so tense there; surely the Divine will understand that."

"Perhaps," the old woman agreed, "But there is more as well, news that certain parties might not take kindly too."

"Eh?" Sebastian replied.

Aunt Alana pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed, as if she wanted to take in every response to his reaction to her news.

Perhaps, Sebastian realized, she did.

The Mistress of Rumors sighed again.

"Your wife as pardoned her brother, he is still technically under house arrest, but I'm told he has been granted free movement within the Viscount's Keep, he also stands with her when she holds court, advising her like any other lord might."

Sebastian's eyes widened.

"That…that cannot be possible," he almost gasped.

"I assure you that it is," she continued, "Apparently he advised her well in dealing with Baron Lafaille. It was he that apparently helped set up the man. Lafaille might have escaped the trap that killed the Teyrn of Ostwick, but he is on the run, probably only a matter of time until he his caught by either Ostwick or Kirkwall forces."

The Mistress of Rumors smiled.

"You have to admire the boy's efficiency, if nothing else."

Sebastian rose from his chair and started pacing. Alana continued to watch him, her eyes evaluating his every move.

He found himself thinking back to how arrogantly Daylen had swaggered into the throne room after he was captured. How he had smiled, and seemed so proud of himself, proud of what he had done to Perrin. What he had done to Bethany.

The mere thought made his temper flare.

Daylen had hurt Bethany, badly, the fact that he was free again, that he could do it again.

It was almost too much to bear.

"This is madness," he said, "Simply madness!"

"It is family," Aunt Alana shrugged, "Family before all, you know that."

"Not Daylen," he said turning, his eyes blazing fiercely, "Not after what he did to us. Not after what he did to…to…

Sebastian found he had no words.

What was he going to tell Bethany?

How could he explain this to her?

Aunt Alana picked up the tea pot and refilled her cup. She remained silent until she had added just the right amount of honey and lemon.

She gave him a sly smile.

"I'm sure your mistress will not be pleased," she said.

The comment struck him like a fist.

It was not an accusation; Aunt Alana did not make accusations.

She stated facts.

Her blue eyes twinkled.

"Come now, Sebastian," she purred, "I've known you all your life. Please do not try to deny it."

The old woman sipped her tea.

"In the last two months you have been here, you have spent most of your nights in Lady Bradley's estate. I would call that innocent enough, except for the love bruises she has left on your neck, and Maker knows where else.

Sebastian blushed, he felt angry, confused, and fearful that Aunt Alana had chosen to…out him like this.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

"I won't lie, but…but…please, please, try to understand."

He sat down next to her. Alana said nothing waiting to hear what he had to say.

Sebastian sighed.

"I…I never meant for this to happen," he began, "Beth…Lady Bradley, I've been trying to help her, she has gone through so many dark times. I thought I could guide her; help her find hew way back into the light."

"Instead she pushed you into darkness," Alana replied coldly.

"No," he spat back, "Never! You…you must try to understand. When Daylen's monsters attack us, she…she needed me. She needed me to protect her."

Sebastian shook his head.

"I love my wife, Aunt Alana," he said, "But Lona doesn't need me to protect her. Often she has left me behind when she has had to face dangerous things."

"She is a strong woman, dearie," she reminded him, "If she was not, you likely would not have fallen in love with her in the first place."

"I know," he said shaking his head, "I know…but…but…"

Sebastian lowered his head. For a moment it felt like was going to sob.

Maker give me strength, he thought.

Help me.

He took another deep breath.

"The first time we kissed was on the way here," he confessed, "She had been trembling, so afraid after the attack. Then later when I went to visit her in her estate, everything seemed so intimate, we were always alone, we…"

He took a shuddering breath. Bethany had made it easy for him, more than easy. Perhaps it was being back here in Starkhaven, surrounded by so many memories of his roguish past.

Whatever the reason, they had started something.

Bethany was now…his mistress.

"I love my wife," he repeated, "But Bethany makes me feel…I…I cannot describe it."

Alana Rosewood frowned.

For a moment Sebastian felt a flash of anger.

How dare she judge me?! Have I done anything more than any other noble has done?

That anger died a quick death. He found himself thinking about Lona and the children. He thought of little Perrin and Livia, he thought of Angie.

He shook his head.

It was strange, when he was with Bethany, he did not think about his family. Everything was fire, heat and passion!

It felt good to feel like a strong man, to not feel overshadowed by his powerful wife. Those were childish emotions; he knew that, but…but…

He frowned.

He could not stop the fact that he felt them.

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves.

He looked over at his Aunt one of the wisest women he knew.

"What should I do Aunt Lana?" he asked.

"What should I do?"

IOI

Alana Rosewood carefully considered her options here. As much as she loved Sebastian, she had to weigh the good of their family against his personal feelings.

She could tell him that she was sending a letter to Solona, that his wife deserved to know the truth, but at the same time, if she did that, she would have to tell him about dear Solona's dalliance with that Knight-Captain.

That would not do.

If she confronted Sebastian with this, he might use it as an excuse to grow closer to Lady Bradley. That was not a good idea either. She was worried about Sebastian, worried about their family.

She was worried that they had another wolf in their house, and she did not mean Daylen "Lord Death's Hand" Amell.

If Bethany Bradley was a threat they needed to deal with her, and there was only one really good way to do that, she feared.

The Mistress of Rumors sighed.

"You will need to decide what you truly want," she advised him, "You should end…whatever it is you have with Lady Bethany, at least for now."

She gave him an earnest smile.

"Solona deserves that," she said, "Your children deserve that."

Sebastian nodded, apparently taking the bait.

That pleased her more and more. It was an ugly thing that she was doing, basically turning Sebastian into a pawn, a pawn she was using against Bethany Bradley.

It was not pretty, but it was necessary.

If Lady Bradley was what she appeared to be, she would either end her relationship with Sebastian, or wait and see if he would go off with her.

If she was not what she appeared to be…?

Alana fought the urge to smile.

Her response would not be pretty, she would feel betrayed, she would blame Sebastian, might even blame Solona as well. No woman liked to be jilted, and if she had dark forces at her command, she might use them. Her anger might be just enough for her to let down her guard…

It might be just enough to get the girl to rip off her mask. If they gave her enough rope, she might just hang herself with it.

It was a risk, Alana knew that. Solona would need to be warned, but carefully, quietly…

Still…no matter what happened, it would hurt people she loved. Alana hated that, but once again saw no real way around it.

This was how ruling was done.

This was how the game was played.

Sebastian hugged her, thanking her for advice. She returned his embrace, but kept a part of herself distant, distant and cold.

It was necessary when you knew how to play the game, and it was a game she intended to win.

No matter what the cost.


	25. Ana

**Chapter 25: Ana**

Anastasia Aliza Trevelyan made her way through the halls of the Viscount's Keep. The young red haired girl murmured greetings to the various guards and dignitaries as she passed by.

She held her head high as she made her way down the corridor. She had a lot to do today. The Viscountess was continuing preparations for this year's Satinalia Ball not to mention that she was hosting an event for the dwarven merchant's guild by the end of the week. Plus several matters involving the Ferelden refugees had been requiring her attention for the last few weeks, needing the Viscountess to delegate work to both her Hand and his council, and several members of the court, members that she would need to run messages to later this afternoon. Following that, she had hoped to have a bit of time to train with the city guard. Guard Captain Hawke had been pleased with her performance last week while sparing with one of the new guard recruits.

Lady Aveline had promised Ana some pointers, a few lessons that would make her a better swordsman, hopefully.

If all went well with that she might just have time for a quick meal a bath, and crawl into bed a little before midnight. Then…the whole crazy mess would start again to tomorrow.

A hostage's work is never done, she thought…

…then she smiled.

She had never been happier.

It did not take a genius to know why she had been sent here to Kirkwall. Her Mother and Lord Crestmere, now Teyrn Crestmere, had needed to show the Viscountess their willingness to help her deal with her enemies. They had needed proof that this had not all been some kind of set up to win favor from the previous Teyrn's family or his Orlesian ally.

Ana…was that proof.

She had come here with the mage Tobias, who had served both as her tutor and her bodyguard. The portly mage might not look like much of a threat, but she had seen him use his magic on some bandits on the road.

The man was not to be underestimated.

He would likely have to return to Ostwick soon, now that the Orlesian Baron had been dealt with, it would be time for him to resume his duties at the royal court. She of course would have to stay here, at least until matters between the new government of Ostwick, and Kirkwall nominalized.

That…was what her mother expected of her.

Aliza Trevelyan had been willing to offer up her own daughter to ensure that the alliance held; that was how far she had been willing to go. She could not risk her elder children of course, they were to be the future of their house, but Ana…being the third born and most likely to be sent to the chantry when she came of age was a perfect sacrifice to secure the fledgling alliance. Lizzie or Andy would likely have moaned had they been the offering, both of her elder siblings had been taught caught up in their lives in Ostwick, the thought of being sent to a foreign city, surrounded by strangers would have been unbearable to them.

To the fourteen year old handmaiden…it had been a beautiful and wonderful escape.

At last, she was finally free to be herself.

Ana loved Ostwick; she had loved her family, but lately, as she grew closer to coming of age, more and more of her family's opinions about what her life should be had been thrust upon her. The possibility of her going to the chantry was no mere threat; it had been the fate of third and fourth children of the noble houses for generations. Then there was the fact that mother did not approve of Ana's interest in swordplay and marshal skills. In Aliza Trevelyan's eyes her daughter should have been practicing more…feminine pursuits, not to mention trying to find herself a potential match.

The girl's eyes narrowed.

Such suggests had become louder in the last year, coming perilously close to orders.

Ana had been more than willing to escape that.

Her Lord Father had protested of course. If Lizzy and Andy were mother's pride and join, Ana had been his. She was her Papa's sweet little girl. Father was a good lord, but he lacked Mother's skill at playing politics, long ago he had wisely decided to take the wheel in navigating that particular sea.

It had been the smart choice, and now…sadly.

…The necessary one.

Ana's cheer faltered slightly.

Papa was sick, she knew this and so did the rest of the family. The family had spent a fortune on healers, hoping to restore him to full health. Magic and healing herbs had delayed the sickness, but the healers feared that her father would never completely be free of it. So they continued to treat him, and do their best to make him comfortable.

Before she had left, he had done his best to assure that he would be alright, that she should focus on her duties to their family, and try to enjoy her life in the process.

She tried to follow that request. Her mother's last letter suggested that he was doing better, and that he sent her his love.

Still…she could not help but worry, at least a little bit, the fact that he had not sent a letter himself worried her a bit.

She had mentioned this to the Viscountess; the ruler had been surprisingly compassionate.

When the time came, if it came, Ana would be granted the chance to return to Ostwick.

Now that the business with the Orlesian was done, she was hoped to be able to go home for a visit. Surely mother's allies would have dealt with any of the old Teyrn's allies by now.

She wanted to see her father again.

She wanted to make sure he was alright.

In the meantime, she tried to stay focused on her duties and not get distracted. Papa would not want her to spend all her time in Kirkwall fretting over him, and he would certainly not wish her duties to suffer.

"Keep me in your heart pup," she could almost hear him saying.

"But don't be afraid to live."

So that is what she intended to do. Though she was technically a hostage, Viscountess Amell had been more than willing to treat her like a ward of her family. She was able to advance her family's interests, make friends, and at the same time pursue her interests in the sword.

All in all, life was good, even if it was far from home.

IOI

"Ana?"

The girl paused. She had thought she had heard someone call her name. She…

"Ana?"

She turned.

One of the doors behind her was open, just a crack really, though it was dark she could just make out the face of the one who called her.

Her brow furrowed.

"Lady Poole?"

Esmerelda Poole smiled and gestured for the girl to follow her. Ana, not really sure what was going on, did.

The older woman opened the door and let the girl inside. The two of them were alone in one of the guest rooms in the keep.

Ana blinked, the room looked like it had been closed up for a while. She pursed her lips.

Had the Viscountess sent Esmerelda to get the room ready for some visit? It did not look like it, besides the older girl had quickly become one of the Viscountess' most trusted servants.

It was highly unlikely that she would be given such a menial task as preparing a bed for a visit.

Esmeralda closed and locked the door.

Ana turned to the older girl.

Lady Poole was smiling at her.

For a moment, Ana felt a brief sense of fear, a desire to escape this place. Which was ridiculous, of course…?

Lady Poole was one of the favored of the Viscountess.

There was no danger from her.

Yet still…still…

Then…Esmeralda spoke…

…and all that fear went away.

"Poor little Ana," she cooed, "Always working."

She shook her head sympathetically.

"You are far too serious for one so young."

Ana shrugged.

"It is what is expected of me," she said.

She gave the other woman a shy smile.

"It is not like I could get by by my looks alone.

Poole threw back her head and laughed at that, perhaps far more and harder than the simple quip had called for.

She wiped at the tears of amusement on her face, and continued to grin at the girl.

"You sell yourself far too short little one, far too short.

Her smile widened.

"In time…you are going to be something spectacular."

Ana blushed and looked away. In Ostwick, no one deemed to look at her, and no one would certainly **never** call her _spectacular_. All they had to do was look at her older sister Elizabeth and that was it.

Lizzy would always be the spectacular one.

Esmerelda, few outside of the ladies of the court now called her Izzy; she preferred to be called Esmerelda now, or simply Lady Poole.

She walked around Ana, drinking her in, her dark eyes evaluating the young girl.

Ana felt a surge of self-consciousness. In the last month or so the Lady Poole had risen above the rest of the handmaidens. Few doubted now that she was the most senior of their number, the most trusted and loved.

More than a few of the girls had grown very jealous of that.

Finally, the girl managed to catch the lady's eye again, Esmerelda shook her head.

"Oh Ana," she cooed, "You could be so much more."

Normally such a comment would have made the fourteen year old angry, but coming from Esmerelda, all alone as they were now.

The comment…well…it…it…

Ana swallowed hard.

It hurt.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Esmerelda's smile return.

"It is not your fault, little one," she cooed, she moved closer to the young girl, though Izzy only stood half a head taller than her younger counter part, she seemed to tower over her now.

Her shadow seemed to fill the room, the sunlight filtering through the windows seemed to dim, all light seemed to fade into shadow.

All light, accept the one surrounding Esmerelda Poole.

She raised Ana's head by the chin, forcing her to look into her eyes with a single finger.

Poole smiled into Ana's blue eyes. Violet fire seemed to dance in the senior handmaiden's gaze.

Fire that now seized the younger girl and pulled her in, Ana suddenly felt dizzy. She felt like she was starting to swoon.

The Lady Poole smiled at her.

"You have so much potential," she purred, "But you could be so much more."

The light in the lady's eyes seemed to brighten.

"Would you like to be more Ana?"

The girl's head bobbed in a dreamy nod.

_Yes,_ she thought.

_Whatever you say._

"I'm so pleased that you think so," Esmerelda cooed.

Ana blinked.

What, she thought.

Had she said that out loud?

The lady did not seem to notice her discomfort, she continued to smile.

"Tell me Ana," she said, "What do you want to be?"

Ana thought about that, what did she want? Where did she want to be? Not in the chantry, that was sure. She imagined herself living in a different place and time, a time of peril and adventure.

She smiled slightly.

She wanted to be in a time when people needed someone to protect them, and were praised for their bravery and honor.

The Lady sniffed at that.

"The dreams of a tomboy," she spat with a sneer, "Unbecoming of one with so much potential.

Again, Ana winced.

She had displeased Lady Poole. It was like a dagger in her heart.

"Sorry," she murmured.

Poole sniffed and shook her head.

Her displeasure faded though and her smile returned.

"How about this," she offered.

Ana almost swooned, the images wrapped around her like a soft warm blanket.

She was standing in the Teyrn's palace in Ostwick; around her the entire court stood watching her with baited breath. The men looked upon her with desire, while the women did their best to hide their jealousy at her perfection. Even Lizzy's pale skin took on an emerald tint of envy.

Ana had to do all she could to suppress a giggle.

Her father looked up as he made her way past beaming with pride. Mother bowed her head in respect, pleased with what her daughter had become.

Teryn Crestmere dropped to his knee as she approached, he might have the throne, but it was she that he now knew to be vision of perfection. Ana offered him her hand; he took it in his own and kissed it chastely.

"Milady," he cooed.

Ana felt a surge of absolute pleasure; she never knew how good this could feel. She looked down at herself and…

She froze.

She was barely dressed, but that is not what shocked her.

Her skin, her body though the very image of feminine perfection had skin of pure dusky violet. Her long graceful fingers ended in long razor sharp talons. In the polished marble floor she saw her reflection. Small delicate curved horns jutted from her head, her red hair blazed like crimson fire. A long tail swished in surprise, even as her cloven hooves pranced nervously in place.

She… she was…

"Perfect," she her Lady Poole purr.

She struggled tried to break free of the woman's gaze.

Esmerelda did not let go.

"Do not be afraid," she murmured.

"Perfection has a price."

The vision faded, Ana was still here, in Kirkwall, wrapped in the shadows.

All fear faded again, she felt warm, and safe.

Lady Poole smiled, it was all the reward she needed.

Despite the warmth and peace, she felt, something else.

There was a tingling in her arms and legs, warmth that she did not entirely understand.

"I…I feel strange," she murmured.

"It is the beginning," Esmerelda promised her.

"This is the gate to your dreams, your path to perfection."

Ana giggled.

_The path to __**perfection**__._

_She __**liked**__ the sound of that._

And the fact that she liked that pleased Lady Poole.

That was all the reward she needed.

The Lady raised her chin, and their eyes met, Esmerelda's eyes seemed to be glowing brightly now.

"I can give you what you want." She said, "Do you believe that?"

Ana nodded.

"Do you want to be perfect? Do you want to be like me?"

Ana swooned, a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips.

The older girl's smile widened, her teeth almost looked like a mouth full of fangs.

"Do you accept that gift that I offer?"

The fourteen year old paused, basking in the light of her mistress.

Yet, something held her back from taking the final step.

"Do you accept?" Esmerelda repeated.

Ana felt it; she felt her head beginning to nod. The word 'yes' forming on her lips.

She…she…

A loud bang woke her up.

Ana hiccupped and stepped back. She looked around, feeling like she had just woken from a fever dream.

Esmerelda Poole looked miffed; she looked the door and almost hissed with anger.

Ana blinked not sure what had just happened. She…she…

She swallowed hard.

She could not remember

"Anastasia? Anastasia are you in there?"

Ana blinked.

It was Guard Captain Hawke.

It was Aveline.

She walked past Lady Poole and opened the door. The Ferelden woman stood before her in full battle armor.

Her expression was relieved.

"I was looking for you girl," she said, "The Viscountess has an errand for you to run."

"Yes," Ana said, "Yes of course."

Aveline looked past the girl, finally noticing Esmerelda Poole.

The girl was wandering the room checking it for dust.

"My apologies Guard Captain," she said wiping some dust from an old cabinet.

"I was preparing this room for the merchant's guild visit."

She smiled at Ana.

"This little one was helping me."

Aveline held her gaze on Esmerelda longer than she should of, Ana wondered about that, she…she…

She had been only been trying to help Lady Poole.

The girl's brow furrowed.

Had she not?

"Come along Ana," Aveline said ushering her out of the room.

"The Viscountess is expecting us."

IOI

As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, Esmerelda Poole looked up from her work. For a brief moment her eyes glowed, they flashed a bright fiery violet.

The Ferelden bitch had denied her; her meal had escaped, but there were plenty more willing souls in the keep.

She would eat her fill of the desires of fools, and build for herself a force suiting her power.

When the time came, when she finally paid Solona Amell back for her murder, she would not be alone. She would have allies.

And the so called Lioness of Kirkwall would be overwhelmed.

She shook her head. It was a shame about the girl, but it was only a setback, she would have what she desired soon enough.

Lady Poole smiled.

"See you soon, little one," she purred.

"See you **real **soon."


	26. Secret Plans

**Chapter 26: Secret Plans**

The Viscountess was extremely busy today.

Those were the words that the Seneschal was to say if anything besides disaster tried to cross her door. It was not just the normal day to day operations of the keep, but preparations for the coming Satinalia Ball and her desire to welcome her Lord-Consort home in the proper manner.

She smiled slightly.

It had been some time since and Sebastian had been alone. She was eager to rectify that.

Of course, such thoughts were for later, for now she had work to do, much work.

It was best that she just got started.

Solona decided to stay away from her office today, preferring to work in the sanctuary of the old reading room in the east wing, the room that her father had used as his study during his reign.

For the briefest of moments, the Viscountess closed her eyes, letting herself drift back, enjoying the sounds and smells of this place. Father had been gone for almost nine years now, yet she still could sense him here. He had spent so much time here, reflecting on what their home needed, what he needed to do to make those dreams a reality. She often brought the children here telling them stories about their Grandpapa, and how brave he had been. It saddened her that neither father nor mother had lived to see them, that the next generation would rise with no memory of those who had made that rise possible, it was tragic. Father would have loved little Perrin, she was sure of it. Mother would have dotted heavily on little Livia, an Angie made it almost impossible not to love her.

Solona shook her head.

_I'm trying Papa_, she thought_, I'm trying to preserve what you built for us._

She took a deep breath. She tried to draw strength from her father's presence, the Lion of Kirkwall may have been gone, but through his daughter, his legacy and strength remained.

She wished to be true to that legacy, and for what she was about to ask of her loyal friends and family.

She would need all the strength she could muster.

What had to be handled today was not for the ears of the court, at least…not yet.

The Seneschal had been told that she was not to be disturbed, that she needed to draft invitations to the Grand Ball, tedious work perhaps, but necessary to keep secret for the moment. The turbulence of the last few months meant that some could not yet know who _else_ was coming to the Ball, enough plots were swirling around their family right now, and she did not wish to add more to that list.

The lords of Ostwick were coming, after what had happened with the Orlesian they could not be ignored. Lady Alana had also expressed interest in attending, considering her closeness to the Prince of Starkhaven she could not refuse. She could not say for certain of Prince Goran himself would attend, but if he did, she would make sure that a guest room fit for a fellow royal was prepared.

The Viscountess' brow furrowed with worry.

_So many things to attend to, she could not afford to be disturbed today._

That is what she had told Bran when she had retired to this place, it wasn't a lie, but it was not the whole truth. She still had no idea if Daylen's old allies still had friends at court.

If those friends existed they could not know what was coming.

She had finally received word from the dwarven merchants' guild.

They believed that they had found where the assassin Quill and Neria Surana were hiding.

After searching for so long the answer should have been obvious, how the Faithless were able to appear and disappear so quickly.

The monsters and their masters were hiding in the deep roads, or rather one of the old cities still connected to them.

The dwarves called the place Vinthal Thaig, or as the ancient Tevinter's referred to it as Silverport Thaig.

It was now believed that it was in that place that the remains of Death's Hand's allies had taken refuge.

The Viscountess smiled grimly.

It was there that they would not escape from.

It had taken the dwarves a bit of work to figure out what the markings they had seen on the armor that Solona's people had recovered meant. They had needed to send word all the way to the Shaperate in Orzammar, hoping that someone there might recognize the mark.

It had taken a bit of time to get the answer back, but now that they had, there was at last a chance to finally do something.

The mark was that of an old family rune, a rune used by the rulers of the old Vinthal Thaig. A surfacer would miss it, the dwarven merchant she had spoken with said, but a dwarf would know it for what it was, and try to do something about it.

Vinthal was one of many port Thaigs during the days of the Dwarven Empire. The Tevinters had called it Silverport because of the primary ore that the dwarves mined there. Massive veins of silver were said to have run like rivers through the stone of that Thaig, as well as iron and other precious metals.

The Thaig, like so many others, had been lost to the darkspawn ages ago, lost and forgotten until now.

If someone had managed to liberate it, the dwarves now wanted it back.

They would not allow one of their Thaigs to remain in the hands of Death's Hand's old supporters, they intended to deal with the problem, and had asked the Viscountess of Kirkwall to help.

It was a request that she was more than happy to answer.

There was a familiar knock at the door, she smiled, recognizing immediately who it must have been.

"Enter," she called out.

The door opened admitting Varric, Cousin Garrett, and Graydon Stark.

She nodded to them, and motioned for them to join her by the fire.

Varric closed and locked the door, but not before making sure the hall was secure.

What had to be said was not for outside ears.

For now, this business needed to be kept quiet.

IOI

"I can't believe the dwarves did not recognize that Thaig mark from the beginning," Garrett Hawke said shaking his head.

"I thought that dwarves lived for knowing that kind of thing."

Varric shrugged.

"From what my contacts say," the Lord Hand said, "No one recognized it, because it shouldn't be possible for that Thaig to be open to anyone."

The dwarf shook his head.

"Even the shaperate thought that it had been cut off from the deep roads. Apparently, the Deshyrs had ordered the place flooded during the first Blight; the whole Thaig should be underwater right now.

Solona pursed her lips.

"Flooded?" she asked.

"That is right Your Highnessness."

"Flooded how?"

Stark spread out an old map for her to look at, a copy sent from the Shaperate in Orzammar, it showed the old Vinthal Thaig as it had been at the height of the Dwarven Empire.

"According to our merchant friends," Stark began, "the whole Thaig was built on the mouth of an underground river. The dwarven kingdoms built a dam to control the water flowing out from it and into the sea. The engineers designed it so that the waters could either rise or fall to accommodate whatever Tevinter ship came to dock there."

Solona nodded, she had seen some of feats that the dwarves had managed. Building a simple harbor would have been simplicity itself.

Varric shook his head.

"When the Blight reached it, the lords of Vinthal Thaig were ordered to destroy the Thaig rather than let it fall into darkspawn hands. They were told to destroy the dam and leave the whole place underwater. The people had had some warning; they should have been able to escape to the sea or into other sections of the deep roads."

Solona shook her head.

"What happened?" she asked.

The dwarf frowned.

"Orzammar lost all contact with the Thaig. The spawns' conquest of the deep roads was moving far too quickly. No survivors of the Thaig made it to any other dwarven settlement. The shapers assumed that the lords only had time to carry out their orders and nothing else. That they flooded the Thaig before anyone could escape, darkspawn or dwarf."

The Viscountess winced.

Such a story made her shudder. Those poor people, she thought. First the darkspawn, then a massive flood, to die because of either…

…Those poor people.

It was Cousin Garrett that brought her out of her troubled thoughts.

"The dwarves now think that the lords never managed to flood the city, that the spawn overwhelmed them before they could."

"The Blight may be five years over, but that does not mean that the darkspawn had time to reclaim all their holdings, Death's Hands' followers could have driven out the spawn, and taken this place over."

The Fereldan knight shook his head.

"If Quill and Neria had enough of those Faithless creatures to overwhelm the darkspawn, then they would now have a perfect base from which to operate out of."

Stark began pointing quickly over the old map.

"Armories here, forges there, no less than three major mines if this map is to be believed. Plus, the dwarves may have been trading with Tevinter, but they clearly did not trust them, the fortifications described for the waterways are impressive."

Stark shook his head again.

"A hidden base, with strong defenses, if there are enough Faithless to man all these old dwarven defenses, it is going to be a bitch to get them out."

Solona pursed her lips.

She had asked Daylen about the Faithless. He had no idea how many Neria could have created by this point. If the force that had attacked Bethany and Sebastian was not their full army, if they had enough to man the Thaig and keep the darkspawn out.

The Viscountess frowned.

How long until they would be strong enough to try and attack Kirkwall directly?

She looked up at Stark, as the Shield of Kirkwall, and her best military mind, he was the one most likely to have an idea how to deal with this threat.

"How do the dwarves wish to proceed?" she asked.

Stark's expression turned grim.

The deep roads are too much of a mess for King Bhelen to send an army," he said, "The merchants have contacted the Legion of the Dead though, they have experience fighting in such places, and have at least three fighting groups within striking range of the Thaig, or can be there within days."

"Will those men be enough?" Solona asked.

"We don't know, Your Grace," Gray answered, "It depends on how many soldiers Quill has with him, if the Thaig is only lightly defended, there is a chance to end this quickly. If Quill and Neria have an army waiting…"

Stark did not finish.

He had no reason to.

"We could ask the Circle for support," Cousin Garrett suggested.

Solona considered that.

It was possible, yes, but since she had expelled the Templars from the keep, Meredith had put the entire Gallows on lockdown, not even First Enchanter Orsino was being allowed out. The Jackal feared that Solona's acts, clearly a strike against the power of the chantry, might only be the first step in her supporting a mage revolt.

It was ridiculous, but the autonomy of the Circle and the Templars meant that Solona could say little about it. She could ask the Grand Cleric of course, but it was unclear if Elthina would come down on her side. The woman had not been pleased by Solona's move against the Templars, fearing that it would set off something worse.

Now…Solona stood alone against the Jackal and her knights.

Sebastian is on his way back, she realized maybe he could speak with Elthina, convince her of the righteousness of this cause. Quill and Neria Surana were the last true threat to Kirkwall.

If they were dealt with, the war of lions would truly be over.

She took a deep breath.

"What do the dwarves need of us?" she asked.

"The legion units looking to help could use some fresh supplies," Varric suggested.

"They will have it," Solona promised, "Anything else?"

"We should send some of our own people along as well," Stark said, "Make sure that we get Daylen's hand and his bitch."

Stark's eyes narrowed.

He had fought against Neria's pawns since the war began, he was eager to see an end to the elven maleficar.

"I'll go to."

Solona blinked.

For a moment she thought she had heard wrong.

"Garrett?"

The Champion of Kirkwall gave her a confident smile.

"I've been in the deep roads before cousin," he said, "I know what to expect, and the men will likely draw courage from having their champion along with them."

The Viscountess frowned.

"Aveline is not going to like this," she reminded him, "Neither is your mother for that matter."

Garrett Hawke winced.

"Aveline knows how important this is," he reminded her, "and I'm sure that you can keep mother busy so that she does not spend all her time fretting over this."

Solona pursed her lips.

It was a gamble, she knew that, but if they did nothing…

…How long would it be until Neria and Quill struck Kirkwall? Daylen said the man despised their home, and lived only to see it in flames. Neria was…

Neria had her own reasons to hate Solona and her family.

The Viscountess' hands curled into fists, she looked up at the portrait of her family, into the eyes of her Father, the Lion of Kirkwall.

She mustered her courage.

For my house, she thought, for the children.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

They would do this.

They would deal with the remnant of Death's Hand's forces, and then, there home would be safe again, finally…safe.

"Very well," she informed her advisers.

"The word is given."


End file.
